In the Name of Science
by StBridgit
Summary: Hermione has managed to combine science and magic to answer the increasingly worrisome question of why so many wizards and witches are having Squibs. What happens when her research provides a potential solution that requires a very personal sacrifice? Marriage Law Fic. Hermione Granger/Lucius Malfoy.
1. It's in the Genes

**Well, this is a little story idea that I needed to explore. I have no idea how long it will be, but you are welcome to come along for the ride. My stories don't tend to be short. With that having been said, I have about 20k words thus far and it's not winding down yet. I will post more frequently in response to reviews, so please, review! Thank you.**

* * *

Hermione squinted to make out the stutter in the peaks, her tired eyes causing the colors to blur. She had been working non-stop for the past twelve hours on data analysis from the newest family that had agreed to DNA testing after their third grandchild had been confirmed as a Squib. It was heartbreaking and difficult for them to accept. Sadly, this had been the progression of her research for the past two years, as more and more families confronted what was looking like an epidemic loss of magic. Ironically it had also catapulted her from a ridiculed Muggle-born who "couldn't renounce her inferior birth" to a celebrated researcher with ample funding from the Ministry of Magic.

"Working late again, Miss Granger?"

Hermione resisted the urge to shiver as the mellifluent voice drawled through her name, a familiar if slightly unpleasant scenario unfolding.

"There's nothing unusual about that," she replied calmly, breaking warily away from her focus on the screen to look at her boss.

Lucius Malfoy. His silver grey eyes glinted with something, a hint of antagonism and mischief. He liked to stop in the lab before he left occasionally, keeping it irregular enough that she could not successfully avoid him. If past 'chats' were any indication, he would distract her long enough that it was pointless to pretend she could regain her focus, causing her to grit her teeth in vexation.

"Well, it's not as if you have anyone to go home to, I suppose," Lucius commented, amused by the snap of irritation in her eyes. It was so pathetically easy to rile her, he didn't know why he bothered…but of course that was untrue. He knew perfectly well why he bothered, petty though it may be. It was the only form of punishment he could inflict on the Gryffindor princess, heroine of the wizarding world, while appearing to be a caring and diligent boss. She always left after their little tête-a-têtes so amusingly flushed.

Hermione closed the laptop with a snap and stood, causing Lucius to raise his eyebrow mockingly. The man looked nowhere near his age, which was unfortunate, because it made it easier for him to charm his way into any position he wanted in the Ministry. Hermione had firsthand, bitter experience in that, as he had deprived her of the position she had wanted, the Head of the newly created Magical Research division. Notwithstanding his years as a Death Eater, the public had a short memory and even shorter patience for the time required to complete research on this scale. Lucius had swept his way in easily by promising to increase the funding, personally hosting balls to woo reluctant Ministry officials into loosening the purse strings, and presenting her early research findings with such eloquence that even Hermione had grudgingly admitted that he knew how to get things done.

"My personal life is none of your business," Hermione retorted, condemning herself for the blush that rose every time he made a snide remark about her lack of a love life.

It wasn't her fault that Ron had felt overwhelmed with tenderness after Lavender had been bitten by Greyback during the final battle. She herself had felt nothing but compassion when Ron had explained how he felt drawn to Lavender after Bill's experiences. Certainly the sight of the pair of them together while everyone drew breath and slowly picked up the pieces was enough to stir even the coldest of hearts. In the end Hermione had not found it in herself to be bitter toward Ron—what chance did a bright and talented witch stand against a rival whose injuries and lifetime condemned her to a worse status than a Mudblood? She admired Ron for standing by Lavender. The wedding a year ago had been beautiful, she'd even cried. If a small part of her heart admitted she was relieved she would no longer have to pretend an overweening interest in Quidditch, she had the grace to ignore it.

Lucius strolled over to finger through her latest notes, scanning their contents easily. "It looks like your personal life may soon be the Ministry's business, Miss Granger, if your results hold."

Hermione struggled for composure as he deliberately infringed on her personal space, his thigh carelessly brushing against her arm as he sat jauntily on the edge of her desk, ignoring the disarray he caused to her papers. It was easily fixed with a wave of her wand, but that ignored the point. He was always like this, deliberately insulting her with little gestures and comments designed to remind her of her inferiority.

She raised her nose to him and looked him straight in the eye as she said, "I sincerely doubt that the Ministry is going to be able to do anything other than recommending genetic screening to prospective partners. The rest will be common sense enough for the problem to correct itself."

Lucius chuckled, his wand dangling lazily from his right hand while his left plucked a piece of paper from the desk seemingly at random. He looked at it briefly and then met her eyes with his own, a glacial coldness in them. "I think you suffer greatly from your lack of experience, Miss Granger. I pray I will be there when you are enlightened as to the…_ramifications_, should your results hold."

"I won't pretend to understand what you are talking about," Hermione said, then reached for the paper to stuff it in her briefcase. Lucius held it back easily, forcing Hermione to bend over the desk toward it, her color rising with her temper. Her fingers were itching to remove her wand from its holster up her sleeve, but that would be a dangerous mistake. Lucius was not to be trifled with, regardless of his petty games. She had no desire to find herself in Kingsley's offices again after a run-in with her boss.

"Ah, ah, ah, Granger," Lucius' breath tickled her ear as he leaned forward to whisper, "We wouldn't want a repeat of last month's unpleasantness, would we?"

Hermione wasn't worried about holding her own against Lucius in a petty duel, but she had other considerations. While Lucius could easily smooth over another smoldering office, Hermione knew that Kingsley was on a short leash with the plethora of Squibs discovered through _her_ test, and the public was itching for a scapegoat. If she acted up now, she would be thrown onto the pyre of public ire, research or not.

"I need to take that home, _sir_," she spat out, refusing to look at him when his face was inches from her own.

"Testy, aren't we, Mudblood?" His voice was smooth as silk and dripping with poison. "Your research would be so lacking without _my_ patronage."

"The only thing lacking is a bit of respect for my work," Hermione said with some heat, finally giving in to temptation and shooting a venomous glare at Malfoy.

"I almost believe that you don't like me," Lucius purred, his eyes flashing in response.

"I don't," Hermione hissed, finally reaching the paper with a lunge and snatching it from his unresisting fingers. Puffing her breath a bit, she retreated backward and stuffed the paper haphazardly into the case.

"I wonder, will you also require _protection_ when the public realizes what you've done?" Lucius' gaze was calculating and cruel, his mind turning over the latest additions to Granger's numbers. It was time for a few casual conversations with a select few of the Ministry.

"I can protect myself," Hermione said archly, flicking her gaze to the faint silvery scar that lingered just at the hairline of Lucius' left eyebrow. Lucius nodded drolly, watching the witch as she beat a hasty retreat after her last salvo. He cocked his head to the side and removed one piece of paper from her desk. A small and petty revenge, but satisfying enough when she spent half an hour trying to "Accio" it tomorrow morning. Pursing his lips in a hint of a smirk, he sheathed his wand and ambled out. He had a dinner meeting with the Head of Magical Law Enforcement at Chez Merlin, and he knew just what he would be talking about.

* * *

"Are you quite certain that the results are that clear?" Calvin Yaxley nursed his firewhiskey the way an old woman nursed a colicky baby, jiggling it with his hand and occasionally causing a belch of flames to erupt from the glass.

"Would I not be the first to wish for any other result?" Lucius replied thoughtfully. "The only reason I took this post was to keep a very close eye on Granger's work."

"Yes, well…" Calvin hesitated, but the four firewhiskeys that preceded this one overcame whatever reticence he harbored to share, "We all rather assumed your interest was due to some…er, deficiency in Scorpius…"

Lucius' grey eyes turned as cold as steel, and his wand hand twitched visibly. Calvin gulped again and continued hastily, "Of course _I_ knew that couldn't be the case—one of the oldest Wizarding families in Britain, naturally your stock would not be affected…"

"Of course my grandson is fine," Lucius hissed, then tamped down on the spurt of anger. He had known what people would say, but Yaxley was the first person foolish enough to say it to his face. If he didn't need the man's cooperation, he would have hexed him. As it was, he smoothed his impeccable robes and gestured to Calvin's glass. "Another?"

"I shouldn't…" Calvin began to say, but Lucius tut-tutted and waved his wand in a lazily elegant gesture to refill Calvin's glass. He could have done it wandlessly, but he preferred to keep that little talent to himself unless absolutely necessary. There was only one person alive now other than Draco who knew about that, he mused, and stopped that train of thought. _First things first_.

"Terrible times, Calvin. Of course, we hope that things will get better, that people will do the right thing," Lucius paused, gauging correctly that he had Calvin's full attention, "-but sadly, I can say from personal experience that when faced with a very difficult truth, we are terribly bad at making the _best_ choice. We selfishly consider only ourselves, and then what happens?"

Calvin swallowed reflexively, his expression sad and morose. "Yes, yes, I know what you mean. Terribly hard to hope we've all grown since then, with the circumstances possibly being so, er, unfortunate."

Lucius leaned in closer and said with quiet sincerity, "_Dire_, friend, dire. That is the word you seek. Because if Miss Granger's latest results show the same trend…we could well see the end of Britain's wizarding community within two generations."

"Surely it is not that bad, Malfoy," Calvin said, drawing himself up in a manner that he probably supposed made him seem more imposing, but really made him look a bit like a pompous ass, which of course is what he was. But he was a useful pompous ass, so Lucius mentally gritted his teeth and parried.

"If you think the extinction of the magical community here would not be such a loss, then by all means sit on your wand and let it happen. I merely wanted to warn you…because when the word gets out," _and it will, if I have anything to do with it_, "You will be blamed for doing nothing about it. You've seen how the public is already crucifying Miss Granger for having the unfortunate joy of discovering a means of uncovering this little problem—imagine how they will respond when they find out that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement has done nothing for decades about inbreeding, even though it's against the law and everyone knows it is on the books."

Calvin blanched as Lucius smoothly drew himself up from his chair. His work here was done. Casually he tossed a handful of Galleons on the table and said, "See you tomorrow in the office Yaxley."

* * *

"Draco!" Lucius bellowed as he strode into Malfoy Manor, his robes billowing behind him in evidence of his displeasure.

"Do stop yelling, Father. Astoria is having a terrible time getting Scorpius back to sleep," Draco intoned lazily as he appeared from the west wing of the manor. Given the recent climate in the Wizarding community and the age of the Fidelius charm on the Manor, Draco and Astoria had elected to temporarily take up residence in the hithertofore unused section of the Manor. Lucius didn't give a damn, and it had given him an opportunity to boot a few house elves up the arse to get it cleaned up for Draco's little family.

Since Narcissa had died, Lucius had no one to please but himself, and quite enjoyed the freedom of doing as he liked with the place. Narcissa had always been so damn irritating about the décor and fussy about the placement of the tiniest of bric-a-brac. It had been an annoyance which he would never admit to missing.

Her death had come as a bit of a shock to his system. It had happened nearly three years ago, an ambush attack near Diagon Alley by Thorfinn Rowle. He had been captured and was tidied away by Potter before Lucius could do anything to express his rage and anguish, then sent to Azkaban by the Wizengamot. Lucius had wondered if Narcissa had simply given up, it having been a particularly low point in their lives. She had not been a terribly efficient dueller but she had been able to defend herself ably enough in the past. He hadn't been there and could only curse himself for it…

"What can I do for you, Father?" Draco said pleasantly, bringing that train of thought to a halt. Draco had removed his healer's robes, but Lucius knew that his son was not best pleased to be back home where he was at his beck and call.

"Nothing terribly onerous, Draco, simply come and talk to me in my study," Lucius requested with enough arrogance that they both knew it was a command, not a request.

As Lucius swept through the doors, he turned to look at his son and wordlessly probed his thoughts. Draco's mouth twisted into a smirk and Lucius drew back, irritated. "It's not yours yet, son."

"And we both know you would not have heard that if I had not let you hear it," Draco retorted, pleased that he could still irritate his father in kind.

"Hmmph." Lucius settled himself into one of the two chairs by the fireplace, waving his hand to cause the flames to surge to life while Draco summoned the firewhiskey and tumblers. "None for me, thank you. I need to keep my wits about me."

"Suit yourself." Draco poured a neat two fingers and sipped it, lounging back in the chair. Later he would be pressed into soothing Scorpius after a bad dream, or taking him to the loo, one of the few things Astoria absolutely refused to do being getting up in the middle of the night. He was going to enjoy the respite from parental duties even if it meant paying filial duties instead.

Lucius leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees, gazing abstractedly at the flames for a few minutes. His mind turned over the latest results from Granger's work. The girl was uncovering a hornet's nest, and she had no idea. "Damn Gryffindors!" he snorted, bringing his fingers together and tapping them underneath his chin.

"Granger irritating you again at work?" Draco asked, aware of the subtle manner in which his father was determined to poke at each member of the Golden Trio at any opportunity that presented itself.

Granger had won a grudging measure of his father's respect after their little tussle, what, six weeks ago? Draco couldn't remember, but knew that Granger had lost marks for taking so long to confront his father. He had never been a man to respect those who didn't demand respect from him. He knew it had been a petty pleasure to tend his father's cut at St. Mungo's himself. He remembered how irate Lucius had been when Draco had explained that it would scar slightly.

"_Whatever hex she used, it's not going to go without a mark. It won't be noticeable unless you're looking for it_," Draco had told him, and Lucius had seethed with impotent rage all the way through the tedious paperwork and mandatory cool-down period from the Ministry. Then suddenly he had returned to his charming self, accepting Hermione's apology in a tight-lipped manner and issuing his own perfunctory apology in front of Kingsley Shacklebolt as if it meant nothing to him. Draco knew better.

"She's about to irritate the entire Wizarding community of Great Britain," Lucius said, his voice more contemplative than Draco had heard from him in his grousing over Granger. Draco perked up in his chair, alert now.

"What has she found?" Draco asked, the tautness of his tone earning him a sardonic look from Lucius.

"Took long enough for your brain to wake up!" Lucius snapped moodily. "She's on the cusp of proving that Squibs are the product of a recessive gene, one which the Purebloods have been propagating for the past several generations."

Draco set down his firewhiskey tumbler and met his father's eyes. "Are you sure about this? Because already we are seeing more parents requesting tests…"

"Yes, of course I'm sure! Why do you think I pursued it when otherwise I would have kept my damn distance from her? It's bad enough that Potter is sending Aurors to tag after me in the halls after that little squabble. Can you imagine what chaos is going to break loose when this is made public?"

Draco grabbed his arm; one of the few, telling ways that their interactions had changed since the final fall of Voldemort. Lucius had never been particularly affectionate, but Draco knew well enough that he and Narcissa had doted on him. He liked the fact that his son felt comfortable enough with him now to touch him, though hugs were still rare enough. Still, it was…pleasant…in a way that neither Draco nor Lucius had experienced much in their lifetimes. Lucius had shielded Draco as a young boy from the worst of his father's personality, but it had irrevocably shaded him personally. Thank Merlin that bastard had had the grace to die of dragon pox before he could have a pernicious influence on his grandson.

"What is going to be done about it?" Draco demanded to know, the arrogant upturn of his nose a mirror of Lucius' own body language when he was unsure of the situation.

"Mandatory testing, at a minimum. Probably more. I won't know for a week or so, but this is going to get very unpleasant." Lucius scowled at the flames, furious that once again he couldn't be left in peace.

"How unpleasant?" Draco asked, his tone dropping slightly with displeasure.

"How well did you pay attention in your History of Magic class?" Lucius drawled, patting Draco's hand and withdrawing himself to the embrace of the chair.

"Holy fuck."

"Precisely."


	2. No Good Deed

**So many follows and favorites already, thank you! To those who have already reviewed, thank you especially for your feedback. Yes, I cannot imagine Lucius Malfoy without arrogance. Even after all that occurred with Voldemort, I think the only way he could have rebuilt his life would have been to assume his former hauteur, even if the underlying foundations of it were permanently destroyed. To do less would be unthinkable. **

**To reward you all for your interest, here is the next chapter! Let me know what you think!**

* * *

"Really, Harry, enough is enough. I am well able to handle Lucius Malfoy."

"That's not what it looked like when I found you in a full body bind after your little argument last month," Harry reminded her. Hermione's cheeks flushed slightly but she continued as if he hadn't spoken.

"I'm convinced that your hovering Aurors are making it worse, not better. He's more determined than ever to extract petty revenges since you sicced your dogs on him."

Hermione was comfortably ensconced on the Potters' couch, her feet tucked up underneath her and a very nice glass of elven wine relaxing her after the busy week. Ginny was holding a sleeping baby Albus and darted a glance at her husband, whose jaw was clenched in that way he had of stomaching unpleasant tidings.

"Perhaps she has a point, Harry. It is certainly the type of thing that would antagonize a Malfoy," Ginny offered, the baby's noises from a dream distracting her momentarily.

Harry sighed and ruffled his hair. "I don't want to make it worse for you, Hermione, but he cannot intimidate you. It's a violation of the Human Resources management guidelines, as well as hate speech if he called you a Mudblood."

"Harry, you and I both know that I've heard worse. Draco said it with far more venom than his father, and to his credit Lucius has secured more funding and additional researchers. Beneath the digs and almost obligatory insults, I do believe he may actually care about the results."

"Ha! If he does it's only because his precious Scorpius is a Squib and they are too ashamed to admit it," Ginny said, then had the good grace to blush when she received two looks from Hermione and Harry.

"That may be so, Ginny, but it's none of our business," Hermione said, then squeezed her friend's hand to lessen the sting of the rebuke.

"I don't doubt that Scorpius is just as venomous as his father and grandfather. That family is too vicious to skip a generation," Harry said. "No, he's got some other reason for being there, and I'll be damned if I can figure out what it is."

"I don't know and I don't care," Hermione said after another mouthful of wine. "I would just like to be able to do my job in peace without worrying about what he is doing behind the scenes. I never know whether I will be pleasantly surprised at a department meeting or feel the urge to hex him into oblivion."

"I could talk to Kingsley about moving him. Even Malfoy would be tempted if he were offering a junior minister position somewhere," Harry said reasonably. "It's not like he brings any particular expertise to the subject area."

Here Hermione was silent. While she had grudgingly admitted Lucius Malfoy's tactical brilliance, she was beginning to suspect that he knew far more about Muggle chemistry and Potions in general than he had ever let on. The manner in which he perused her research and the occasional sly question had given her to understand that he had a quick mind, and she did not doubt that he knew more about the intricacies of her work than he wanted anyone to realize. It made him more dangerous and also harder to get rid of.

"I don't think he would go, Harry. He is there for a purpose, and he won't leave the position until he realizes it." Hermione's brow was furrowed, and she grasped at a sliver of a thought spurred by something Malfoy had said earlier. "He told me tonight that he doubted I understood the ramifications of my work…I am not sure I know what he meant by it."

Ginny and Harry exchanged a glance, and Ginny spoke again, softly so as to not wake Albus. "Hermione, what exactly are your results telling you? We have assumed you are working on the Squib issue, but you aren't allowed to talk about it and certainly people are getting nervous…"

"I wish I could tell you, both of you, I really do," Hermione begged. "But I am under a Wizarding Oath not to reveal any of it until Kingsley gives me permission to speak of it." She paused and gave a brief, brave smile. "I will have to puzzle out Lucius' meaning myself. It is probably making little sense because it's so late. I should go."

So saying, Hermione stood and leaned over to give Ginny a kiss on the cheek and place a gentle kiss on Albus' head. She let Harry escort her to the fireplace, where she took a handful of Floo powder after Harry hugged her. "Constant vigilance, Hermione. Whatever it is you are working on, obviously Kingsley feels comfortable enough to let Malfoy in on it. I guess we'll just have to trust that he knows what he's doing."

Hermione gave another smile that was braver than how she really felt. "Yes, that's it exactly Harry. I'm sure whatever storm gets thrown up as a result of my work, it will end up being a tempest in a teapot."

* * *

"Are you ready, Miss Granger?"

Kingsley's deep voice at her side startled her, and she caught Lucius Malfoy's smirk as he grabbed her elbow in a proprietary manner and propelled her forward into the lift. Kingsley followed with his two Aurors, neither of whom was Harry. He had been sent on a field mission based on a reported sighting of Antonin Dolohov, and of course that was more interesting than a press conference about the Ministry's research on magical genes. Hermione was irked by Malfoy's presumption, but his grip on her elbow was firm and she couldn't make a fuss about it without Kingsley noticing, so she settled for glaring daggers at him instead.

The lift stopped at the fourth level, and Calvin Yaxley got on, nodding to Lucius and Kingsley.

_Better and better, another ex-Death Eater_, Hermione groused to herself, then was put on her guard by Kingsley saying something in a low tone to Yaxley. She was further alarmed by the fact that Yaxley seemed to be coming with them to the press conference.

"After you, Miss Granger," Lucius murmured, releasing her elbow briefly as she negotiated through the crowd of reporters arrayed for the press conference. The flashes of light from photographers were a familiar if annoying occurrence, and Lucius was right by her side for every one of the pictures. _Damn the man, anyway_, Hermione thought to herself, and heard a quiet chuckle from her boss. Hastily she retreated behind the shifting fog of her Occlumency shields, and cast a dirty look sideways at Lucius.

"How flattering that you find my presence so distracting," Lucius said with a patronizing tone, then swept to his place to Kingsley's right. Hermione had been briefed on the protocol and stood in the background, grateful for once to not be directly in the public eye, even if she was forced to participate in the conference.

"Good Witches and Wizards, welcome to the Ministry of Magic. I have called you here today to discuss the recent increase in the number of Squib births amongst the magical community, a situation which has saddened and depressed us all. As soon as an increase was noted, the Ministry took it upon itself to fund research into possible causes…"

Hermione allowed her mind to wander, cognizant of the need to keep her shields intact. _As soon as an increase was noted, my ass. It took me three years of busting my butt with a secondhand instrument and some complicated potions work to get enough data to get them to even consider funding my work_. She refocused on what Kingsley was saying, and heard the gasp from the press corps as he announced that sadly, they had found a physical basis for the loss of magic among so many of their offspring. Kingsley's description of genetics was succinct and perhaps not quite accurate, but the press witches and wizards were enraptured. This was big, and the only sounds to be heard in the room were the scratching of quick quote quills and the rustle of fresh sheets of parchment to replace those already saturated with words.

"And now, I will turn you over to our Minister for Magical Law Enforcement, Calvin Yaxley, for a discussion of how the Ministry intends to confront this epidemic. Calvin?"

Hermione started forward to whisper to Kingsley, but Lucius grabbed her elbow again and leaned down in what looked like a quiet word from the boss to anyone who happened to be looking at them. However, Hermione was well aware of the vice-like grip which Malfoy was exerting on her, and his eyes had taken on that dangerous mercurial gleam.

"No, Miss Granger, I will watch you take in the effects of your good work," he hissed in a tone that brooked no argument.

Faced with the highly unpleasant prospect of a scene in front of every press witch and wizard in Britain or waiting quietly while Yaxley said whatever horrible, hideous thing had been cooked up, Hermione chose to not make a scene. There was a time and a place for that, and this was not it. Whatever had been decided had clearly involved Kingsley, and who knew how many other deputy ministers and department heads within the Ministry.

"The genetic testing which was developed in-house at the Ministry allows us to pinpoint which pairings between witch and wizard are likely to result in offspring who suffer from a loss of magic. Thus, the Ministry has decided it is in the best interests of the Wizarding community of Great Britain to require such testing between potential spouses before marriage."

Yaxley paused and the press corps scribbled furiously. This was a natural development from the stunning news, it would seem, but Yaxley was not done yet.

"In addition to the genetic testing for those wishing to marry, the Ministry is henceforth imposing mandatory genetic testing on all Wizards and Witches of marriageable age and whom are likely able to have children. A statistical analysis of the children tested thus far indicates that this problem may be widespread. We are therefore compelling parents to bring in all children below the age of eleven to be tested as well, in order to ascertain the true extent of this threat to our community."

Hermione felt a knot forming in her throat. This was far more intrusive than she would have liked. Parents who previously would have waited for their child's magic to manifest naturally would now be confronted with that knowledge when their children were much younger. If their children were diagnosed as being Squibs, Hermione feared that some parents would cease their attentions to their non-magical children, as some in the Wizarding world still felt that Squibs were damaged and inferior in some way. Argus Filch was one example of such "parenting". She swallowed hard, but could not dislodge the lump that reflected the anguish of her heart. This was _terrible_. Didn't they realize they were causing more problems than they were purporting to solve? She was about to turn away to leave but Malfoy's hand tightened and he prevented her from doing so. She had forgotten he still had a hold of her, and threw an angry look and nonverbal hex at him. He wordlessly parried it and flashed a look of searing anger at her, giving her a split second glimpse at what he truly thought of her _research_.

"No, dear, you will swallow all of the bitter potion you helped create," he whispered in her ear, turning her in a gesture that looked comforting but was anything but.

"Lastly, the Ministry will use the genetic information it obtains from the Wizards and Witches of marriageable age to compile a list of suitable matches for each witch and wizard. It is expected that those of marriageable age will marry within the next year. Were the situation not as dire as we fear, the Ministry would not take such a drastic step. However, in order to ensure the survival of our magical community, we must see population growth or resort to begging other magical communities for an influx of new immigrants."

A rustle of whispers ran round the room. Nearly all in the room were to be affected by the law. A mostly uniform hush spread over the press as Kingsley retook the podium.

"I would like to assure the Wizarding community that were the circumstances not so grave, the Ministry would not be interfering in such a social institution in this manner. However, the research carried out by our Department for Magical Research, which will be published later today in the Annals of Magical Research, is thorough and based in unequivocal fact. Therefore, we must act quickly to safeguard our community and ensure its survival. We hope that all witches and wizards affected will do their part with good grace and accede to the demands of biology, for the greater good."

Hermione's eyes closed at Kingsley's parroting of Dumbledore's seemingly favorite phrase. As Kingsley stepped back from the podium, the press wizards and witches began to shout a plethora of questions. Hermione heard a few before one particularly nasal and rude voice cut through the din.

"Minister Malfoy, do tell us, was Hermione Granger the primary researcher behind this work?"

Hermione didn't need to see her yellow curls to know who had asked. Kingsley nodded to Lucius, who released her arm at last and strode to the podium.

"Miss Granger has been invaluable to this work." Lucius paused and turned his head to meet Hermione's eyes, then he turned back to the audience and threw her to the wolves. "In fact, you could say that without Miss Granger, this research would never have been done."

Hermione did not stay for the instant flurry of questions. She turned on her heel and walked away swiftly, escaping to the closest fireplace and calling, "Hermione Granger's Flat" in a clear voice. She stepped through into her living room, then turned and quickly blocked the Floo before she sank to the floor and cried her heart out.

* * *

The tapping of an owl at the window raised Hermione from her stupor on the floor. She unbent herself stiffly, uncertain of what time it was. She slowly went over to the window and opened it to let the lovely barn owl in, recognizing it as Ron and Lavender's. She took the note from its leg absentmindedly, then offered it an owl treat from the bag by the windowsill before closing the window after it. She softly said, "Lumos" to light the room up a bit, then unrolled the note to uncover Ron's messy penmanship.

_We just read the evening Quibbler and, wow, 'Mione, you sure know how to cause a stir! It won't affect us, of course, but blimey Hermione, do you realize how many people are rushing to Mungo's now to get their kids tested? I'll bet Draco is going spare! And the arranged marriage law…George is already anxious, right green around the gills, he is. Charlie swears he won't set foot back in England while it's in effect, and Mum is a bundle of nerves, afraid he'll go off and marry some Roma witch before all the furor dies down. Dad swears he had no idea what was going on, but really, 'Mione, couldn't you have dropped a hint? Lavender says to let her know when you get your list, okay, because you're going to need some support having to pick a husband from a list of genetic 'eligibles'. I hope you're doing okay. Come for a visit if the attention is too much for you. Love, Ron (and Lavender, of course)_

Hermione threw the note down on the kitchen table and folded her arms around herself. Of course, she'd be getting a list. _Breathe, Hermione, breathe. _

How stupid could she be: hers was one of the first genetic profiles made because she had been eager to prove the technique! How did she not hear about the statistical model they were using to predict the number of Squibs, or arrange the matches? But of course Lucius wouldn't have told her about that. He would have given it as a project to the new Arithmancy member of the team, that bright young thing Jessamine Miselle. She was a recent graduate of Beauxbatons and a whiz with Arithmancy, so of course that must have been what she was working on since her arrival. To be honest, Hermione had been so buried in her own analyses that she had just been grateful for another mind to deal with the statistics the Ministry required for all the data.

"That's it!" Hermione said excitedly, and opened the window once more to whistle for her owl, Lucifer. He was a mean tempered long-eared owl, but he had great stamina for long distance flying and Hermione was certain no one would tamper with him, either. Now, what to say? She put the quill to her lips and ignored Lucifer's angry hiss at being made to wait while she composed her note. She erased several lines before getting what she felt was the right balance in tone. Squelching the sense of unease that accompanied her action, she tied the note to Lucifer's leg and said clearly, "Lucius Malfoy."

The bird blinked and took off with a long swoop through the window. Hermione bit her lip nervously, then turned to the fridge. She had to eat something, and then she would go to bed and wait for her boss' reply. She doubted very much that he would rush to reply this evening, so she would be better off tucked away in bed. Tomorrow morning was soon enough to deal with this mess again.


	3. Shooting the Messenger

**Thank you to the reviewer who asked to clean up the narrative of how Narcissa died in chapter 1. You were correct, that was confusing. I've cleaned it up now, so please go back and tell me if it makes more sense (I hope it does). **

**Several of you are curious about the mix of magic and science. As a scientist IRL I will speak to that throughout, I assure you: hopefully in a way that is believable but not too full of technical jargon. A couple of you are already curious about Lucius' motives...you'll just have to keep reading! He's quite a handful, as is Hermione. **

**Since I haven't offered a disclaimer yet, I will simply state that the plot is my own, and give JKR all the magnificent credit for such a marvelous universe. Thank you, readers, for indulging in this flight of fancy with me. Please, review and tell me what you think!**

* * *

Lucius was comfortably ensconced in his library when the scratch of an owl at the window interrupted his delicious revisit of the expressions of shock and horror on the face of one Hermione Granger when the implications of her work had been revealed to all and sundry. Her faith in the good sense of the Ministry was sorely misplaced and amazingly naïve given her experiences. Foolish girl, to think she could point out the possible extinction of their world and not see an immediate and highly intrusive response!

At least he had the small pleasure of knowing she would be subject to the same infernal law as the rest of them. If there were any justice (which of course there weren't), she would find herself saddled with some idiot of a husband like Neville Longbottom or Gilderoy Lockhart. Even the inhabitants of the "Severely Damaged" ward of St. Mungo's would not be exempted from the law. If they were still fertile, their 'contribution' was deemed important enough to secure through whatever means necessary. Lucius grimly wished that blithering idiot on Granger. Talk about poetic justice.

Swallowing the last of his elven wine in a huff, Lucius retrieved his wand and prepared to hex the unfortunate owl that blinked in the darkness. He had his wand at the ready, but the creature seemed to sense his intent and after he had released the scroll it landed a nasty bite on his left hand instead, beating a hasty retreat back into the darkness. Lucius fired a stunner but knew it had missed, and cursed the blasted bird with a stream of colorful invective before he banged the window shut and healed the gash on his hand, then removed the drops of blood from the carpet.

Scowling, he picked up the parchment and broke the wax seal: an otter. He sniffed. Granger.

_Sir, I have been thinking about the statistical models that Jessamine must have developed for the Ministry to use. I would like to see them tomorrow morning. I believe she might have missed a variable or two due to the likely epigenetic influences in play in the expression of the recessive genes? It might save everyone a lot of worry and anguish, and at worst it represents no more than a few hours of my time. _

There was a clear blot that had been hastily removed, its shadowy echo tinting the parchment as more words were hastily scrawled beneath it.

_Lucius, please let me do this. It costs this department little, yet it could mean so much to so many. I will do it on my lunch hour if I must, but I MUST INSIST on looking at those equations! _

_Firmly,_

_Hermione Granger_

Lucius swirled off, intent on going upstairs to fetch his eagle owl Ramses and sending him with a curt reply that told Miss Granger exactly where she could put her cheek. He stopped midway however and considered whether a better strategy was simply to watch Granger attempt to pick apart Jessamine's work and alienate her co-worker in the process. Did she think him a fool, to let the Ministry make such crucial decisions without a thorough check of Miss Miselle's work? Lucius' eyes were stormy grey. Granger had made the mistake of underestimating him, and he would be correcting that misunderstanding; Right. Now.

He turned into himself and disapparated with a crack. Miss Granger was in for an unpleasant surprise visit from her boss.

* * *

Hermione had just changed into a slouchy pair of lounge pants and a comfortable sweatshirt when she heard the pounding on the door, then not even a pause before her wards were systematically dismantled within the space of thirty seconds. Hermione whipped her wand out of her hair, causing the sloppy bun to unravel, but she was ready and met the angry eyes of Lucius Malfoy as he stalked into her living room, his wand twitching at the sight of her. Hermione did not want this to get out of hand, and fell back on humor in the hopes that it would cause him to rethink for a second, allow them both to stand down.

"A simple note saying 'no' would have sufficed!"

Her chest was fluttering with agitation from the deep breaths she was drawing but her wand hand was steady and pointed at him, Lucius noted, even as he kept his own wand aimed at the insolent woman.

"Your damn owl bit me!" he growled out, circling a few steps to the right. Hermione mirrored him in the opposite direction, but his remark seemed to rachet the tension down a few notches, because she tilted her head slightly and then slowly, carefully lowered her wand, watching to be sure he was doing likewise.

Finally, after a slow, twinned descent of their wands, Hermione said, "I apologize. Lucifer has always been the most ill-mannered owl."

Lucius nodded stiffly, but his body posture remained tense. Hermione was still gripping her wand tightly, but the elephant in the room had to be addressed.

"What does it matter to you if I look over Jessamine's equations? If the numbers are as airtight as you believe, then it will merely give me additional incentive to identify the epigenetic markers for the gene."

Lucius' eyes flashed with several emotions as he stalked over to her. Hermione stood her ground, but Lucius Malfoy could hover in quite an intimidating fashion. She felt a brief shiver of fear but refused to yield to it, and so remained where she was even as he came within an inch of her face.

"Do you not think it is bad enough that you have systematically destroyed any credibility or factual basis for a lifetime of beliefs, for the social basis of an entire world? Must you now grind my nose in it further, insisting that only the _Golden Granger_ is capable of solving harsh puzzles, of taking all variables into account?"

He was harsh and biting even at such a low volume, and Hermione's eyes widened as she realized why Lucius had been so particularly interested in her work. He ignored the flash of realization in her eyes and pressed on relentlessly.

"Has it not occurred to you, Miss Granger, that I am verily the world's foremost expert on the variables of wizard behavior, including the likely response of the wizarding community to such revelations as yours? Even now you fail to account for the likely path on which you have inadvertently stumbled, self-righteously clinging to your work as if it were some shield against the baser instincts of others and the innumerable emotional consequences for every witch and wizard throughout Great Britain. You have spent this evening telling yourself that it will all be worth it in the end, haven't you?"

His voice was bitter and laced with venom, and Hermione took a step back, the vehemence in his tone making her feel slightly sick. He didn't attempt to stop her, merely pinned her with his quicksilver gaze as he continued in his scornful manner.

"Stupid little Mudblood! Damn Gryffindor, rushing in where fools and angels fear to tread!" Lucius knew his control over his anger was slipping now, and he turned away from her and bit down hard on his fist. The pain cleared his head and he whipped back toward her, surprised to find she had moved closer to him again.

"I'm sorry." Her eyes were mournful and the words held a wealth of meaning. Lucius allowed himself to appreciate that honesty for a millisecond before he hardened again, the cold seeping back into his voice.

"Yet, I think you have no idea how very sorry you will be, Hermione Granger. I only hope you live to feel the grief of it." His voice was more poisonous than an adder's, raw hatred on his face. "Come to my office tomorrow, Granger."

With that curt command, he twirled and disapparated on the spot, leaving Hermione with a lump in her throat and a worrisome plague of troubled thoughts that kept her awake late into the night.

* * *

The next morning was oddly anticlimactic, which served paradoxically to reinforce Hermione's unease. Lucius had presented her with Jessamine's neatly stacked sheaf of equations, not saying a word. Hermione had taken them and spent the morning going over all the equations with a fine toothed comb, checking, double checking, then triple checking to ensure that everything was properly represented. When that failed to produce a change in the results, she did what Professor Vector would do, and went through deliberately making the most likely errors, then compared the two in a blind comparison, switching her handwriting for Jessamine's. Still nothing. The equations were perfect, the numbers stark. She nearly jumped out of her chair when she felt a hand on her shoulder, a small cry of surprise escaping her lips.

"I need the originals back, if you please. You can torture yourself further on your own time. Back to your own project!" Lucius snapped curtly, briskly collecting Jessamine's work with a modified "Accio!" before he left her alone at her desk. Her co-workers pointed and whispered at her, but that she was used to. The Ministry was still dominated by mostly Purebloods, and Lucius had been right when he said that they would blame her for pinpointing the problem, even if none of them were personally responsible. Everyone wanted to have someone to blame, and she was an easy pick. It hurt to have the hard-fought respect she had sought be so easily erased in the onslaught of torrential emotions, the expressions on her co-workers' faces changing from grudging respect to outright hostility.

The days wore on as the DNA for testing came in, and it was a relief to lose herself in the work, time passing with a blur. When the first protests started with scuffles erupting in the streets between Muggle-borns and Purebloods, Hermione broke. It was then that she finally cried at the office, having made her way past arrested witches and wizards, expressions of anger and despair on their faces as they noticed her. At least she had the good sense to cast a Silencing charm first.

She couldn't have born to be near St. Mungo's. Draco Malfoy was still a malevolent bastard in some ways, but he was a good healer with a reputation for gentle treatment. Even _he_ had to be affected by the large number of families traipsing through his workplace for testing. That morning's Daily Prophet had shown the lines of parents clutching children and babies, the largest being a particularly vivid picture of a witch sobbing in anguish as her husband ushered them out the main doors, a bewildered looking child following sadly behind.

It took weeks for Mungo's to process samples from children, still longer for samples to begin stacking up from all 'eligible' witches and wizards of childbearing age. Hermione did what she always did when she was confronted with an apparently insurmountable problem: she researched. She went to the best Muggle universities to copy journal articles, haunted the halls of the Ministry's library, and even returned briefly to Hogwarts with Minerva's blessing to consult the library there. She kept the DNA samples cycling briskly through the Ministry lab, ignoring the color coded slips of parchment that were stacking up in neat files. The MLE had placed wards on the matches, not wanting anyone to find out their match before all were notified.

Lucius hovered in the background but didn't press her for explanations as to where she was going whenever she disappeared for more research. As long as she kept the DNA moving through the analyzer, she suspected he didn't care. They were at an impasse of sorts. Lucius was working Merlin knew what deals regarding the roll-out of the potential matches, and Hermione was determined to make it all unnecessary by finding the epigenetic regulators. Occasionally he would catch her eye and sneer at her in a dismissive way, his opinion of her theory neatly conveyed in that one contemptuous gesture.

"Come on, Hermione, you could do with a break," Ginny urged in a floo call later that week. "Ron and Lavender are going to meet us in Hogsmeade, it will be good for you to get away from the intensity of the lab for a bit. Come and breathe a bit."

Hermione smiled half-heartedly and sighed. She did need a break. The atmosphere at work had grown more and more oppressive, until she felt like she was practically surrounded by a wall of hostility.

"All right, Ginny, I'll be there."

Ginny whooped, reminding her of the aftermath of a hard fought Quidditch match against Slytherin.

"Ok. We're going to try to get there a little early, say four? Lavender feels more comfortable if it's not so crowded."

"That means I'll have to leave work early, Gin," Hermione said.

"Bah, as if you haven't put in enough overtime lately! Be there!"

Ginny's head vanished and Hermione pulled her head out from the fireplace, sitting back on her heels. Of course Ginny was right, but she was certain that such a request might be enough to put Lucius over the edge of the tentative halt to hostilities they had recently achieved. The matches were close to being complete, and the owls would soon start flying with probably the most unwelcome news of a single wizard or witch's life. Hermione had not even allowed herself to think about her own situation in that respect—there was too much to do to worry about something beyond her control. She had, in her weaker moments, considering emigrating to Australia on account of her still missing parents, but she sternly told herself that would not become necessary. Her stomach gurgled loudly, and she pushed the tendrils of worry away with no little effort and focused on the immediate problem. It was, after all, what she did best.

* * *

"What do you want, Granger?" Lucius drawled, his desk uncommonly strewn with crumbs, a half-eaten cake of some sort in front of him. "Well? Don't just stand there, sit!"

Hermione shoved aside the perpetual irritation she felt at his imperious tone and took the chair indicated, primly arranging her robes before she looked up to meet Lucius' gaze. "I will be leaving early today. I just wanted to let you know."

Lucius eyed her and raised one supercilious brow, then leaned back in his chair. "Oh, are you? I was unaware that you had been promoted to department head. Many congratulations on unseating me, Miss Granger. Or perhaps you've forgotten that _I _set the schedules around here."

Hermione had been afraid of this, and took a deep breath to explain. "It's only that I've been putting in a lot of overtime, as you know full well. My work quality will slip if I don't take a break, so I let Ginny talk me into meeting them in Hogsmeade for a quiet meal out. I'm leaving at four."

Lucius looked at her as if she were a bug under a magnifying glass for thirty seconds, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of squirming. She let him look, then made to stand up.

"If that will be all then—"

"Did you know that today is Beltane?" Lucius asked her suddenly, gesturing to the cake on his desk. "A Wizarding tradition—but I don't suppose you'd know anything about that, would you?"

Hermione raised her nose and started replying, "Of course I know what Beltane is. It's a festival marking spring. Bonfires are set to—"

"Yes, yes, no more textbook answers if you please, Granger," Lucius said, cutting her off abruptly. He leaned forward again in his chair as Hermione's bottom sank back down onto hers. "This is an oat cake, sprinkled with the ashes from last year's Beltane fires. It's supposed to ensure _fertility_. Since we are both facing a marriage to persons unknown and hopeful parenthood in our immediate futures, would you like to sample it as well? Purely in the interest of keeping the peace, you understand—I am sure that we will find our spouses perfectly pleasant when your machine is through spitting out results."

Hermione was quite certain that this was another way of him getting his digs at her due to her lackluster love life. That he was lacing it with digs at her ignorance was an added bonus. The shock must have shown on her face, because he laughed at her but deliberately misinterpreted her reaction.

"What, did you think me too _old_ for remarriage? As a proven breeder, you can be sure the Ministry wants to see me back in service, as it were, especially since Scorpius is perfectly fine."

Hermione let out the breath she didn't know she had been holding and opened her mouth to start apologizing, but Lucius cut her off with a wave.

"Shut up. You thought it and so did everyone else. Well, you were all wrong, weren't you? Despite the disaster wreaked upon so many pureblood households, the Malfoy name will most certainly continue on."

Lucius was studying her reactions in a way that always made her nervous, and an evil smirk twisted his lips now as he looked at her. "Come now, Hermione, do you mean to tell me you haven't thought at all about whom you will be forced to marry? Tsk tsk, such a poor liar. Here."

Lucius stood and picked up the remaining half of the oat cake, then broke it in half and came around to the front of his desk to lean one hip against it and hold the clean handkerchief toward her, two even pieces of cake on it. "You take one, and I'll eat the other. I was in no hurry to replace Narcissa, and from the utterly abysmal state of your love life, you were hardly rushing to the altar yourself. We could both use a bit of luck in the coming year."

"Very well," Hermione said after a quick flick of her eyes to meet his. She withdrew her wand and indicated the cake. "If you don't mind?"

He was bitterly amused. "If it pleases you."

She murmured a few incantations, passing her wand over the cake. It appeared to be clean, but if there were any potions in it they could be undetectable. She looked at her boss again.

"Are you _brave_ enough, Miss Granger?"

It was the mocking that settled it. Hermione picked up a piece and he quickly took the other, saluting her with it before they both ate their pieces quickly. It was slightly sweet and crumbly, and there were no immediate effects.

"Sorry to disappoint you," Lucius said pettily, then brushed the crumbs from his robes and returned to the other side of his desk. "Be off with you then, and don't think to make a habit of buggering off early on Fridays!"

"Thank you," Hermione said with an arch of her brow, and left Lucius' office. _Hogsmeade, here I come!_

A few hours later Hermione was cursing herself for losing track of the time. It was 4:15 already and she was still in the office. Shoving some paperwork into her case, she shrunk it and put it in the pocket of her sleek grey skirt. She found the Ministry dress code to be to her taste, although she never admitted it around Harry and Ron, who endlessly bemoaned the need to wear ties to the office. She always felt smarter in her neatly pressed slacks and pencil skirts, and her frilly blouses made her feel feminine. She had meant to go home and change, but that wasn't possible now. She cleared her desk and locked the office with her wand, then hurried out to the lobby. She had decided to disapparate to Hogsmeade, as going by Floo would require a hop home and then back to Hogsmeade. She made her way to the disapparation foyer and turned in a wink, her mind still somewhat distracted as she whirled to her destination.

Blinking, Hermione realized she had put herself outside of the village instead of next to Scrivener's, as she had originally intended. "Damn," she muttered, then began to walk. It must have been her errant thought of Hogwarts, as the path was the familiar one tread many times between the school and the wizarding village it happily supported.

The light at this time of day during late spring was tender and bright, and Hermione felt a brief relief from her worries. Ginny was right, she needed this. Hell, she probably needed a bit of exercise, so the walk was a good thing too. She felt herself relaxing for the first time in weeks, and it was only the dint of long habit that alerted her to the crack of a twig behind her. Whirling and pulling her wand, she found herself staring at a hooded figure.

"Back off," she demanded, watching as the hood fell back to reveal the face of Antonin Dolohov. Unbidden, the scar that slashed across her chest burned, and she threw a shield charm quickly as he laughed and sent a stunner her way.

"After all this time, mudblood—why would I resist this opportunity?"


	4. Points of Contention

**Evil of me to leave you hanging like that. Real work pays the bills, alas, not this. Let's find out how Hermione handles her little meeting with Dolohov. Please review and tell me what you think! I'm at 26k words on this little story now, folks, and reviews make me post faster, because they make me happy. I also promise to finish this fic. I work on one at a time and will follow it until the end. Thank you!**

* * *

He was taunting her, aware that she was remembering the last time they had met in a duel. Hermione's senses were instantly on point, and she felt rather than heard another one behind her, turning and shooting a jinx at him as Dolohov circled toward her. Two of them, both firing rapidly, and Hermione's brain clicked into high gear. She was holding her own and almost took out the other swarthy man when a slicing hex grazed her left arm and she backed against a tree. A third assailant had clipped her, and now she was well and truly fighting for her life.

She could see the malice in Dolohov's eyes and refused to give up, although they were closing in now. Just when she thought one of them was going to grab her, a sponge knees curse hit her opponent, causing Dolohov and the witch with the bright green hair to whirl and confront her unexpected defender—Lucius Malfoy.

"Causing more trouble, Miss Granger?" Lucius drawled, firing with the rapidity for which he was famed as he worked quickly to her side.

"It found me I assure you," she said, barely missing the witch who had revealed herself partially in the shadows of the leafy oaks.

"Defending a Mudblood, Lucius? You have dropped to the gutter, haven't you?" Dolohov snarled, and Lucius sidestepped the curse thrown and fired back with a leg locker curse that caused the other man to stumble slightly. The crack of disapparation was heard, but rather than retreating apparently their assailants had assessed their chances of success and summoned another assailant. It was now four against two as a tall wizard joined the fray, and Hermione found herself in the unthinkable position of fighting hard alongside Lucius Malfoy.

"This grows dangerous, Miss Granger," he said to her, "it's time to move things along." So saying, he stepped boldly away from her and threw the first Unforgiveable of the skirmish. "_Crucio_!"

Lucius Malfoy was not a known duelist for nothing. He had blocked a slicing hex and thrown the crucio at the tall wizard so quickly and underhandedly that it was little wonder he dropped, writhing in agony on the ground.

Dolohov's eyes narrowed and he fired two hexes in rapid succession at Lucius and Hermione, then nodded to the wizard who was panting on the mossy ground, Lucius releasing the curse to deal with the witch that was working toward Hermione. "_Entomorphis_!"

The witch only managed to partially block the dark hex, and her wand dropped uselessly from the hairy insectoid leg that had replaced it. Hermione, having blocked a stunner from the swarthy wizard to Lucius' right, took advantage of Dolohov's split second attention to slash him with a slicing hex, a line of red appearing across his chest and upper arm.

"This isn't over," Dolohov snarled, and wordlessly he disapparated with a crack, the others cracking away after him. Breathing hard, Lucius turned to Hermione to look her over.

"Other than that, are you all right?" Lucius asked, nodding to her bleeding arm.

"Yes, thank you," Hermione said, wincing as she took in the sight of the blood that was flowing freely from the wound, the blood tinged a strange purple color.

"That's Dark magic," Lucius said, quickly drawing a handkerchief and pressing it against the wound.

"You would know," Hermione muttered, and he fixed her with a cold look.

"I suppose it's acceptable to use dark curses to save your life, but not dark magic to heal you." A muscle in his temple jumped, and Hermione knew he was angry and she was out of line.

"I apologize. I'm not… I'm sorry for being a hypocrite." Hermione looked him square in the eyes, shame flushing her cheeks. Lucius was somewhat mollified but still pissed off about the whole situation.

"I can fix it, but it will require some of my own blood. Will that bother you?" His tone was arch, but underneath it Hermione could hear—a frisson of worry? What was that about?

"And if I refuse? I don't have particularly fond experiences of blood magic," she said darkly, and Lucius winced, knowing she referred to her captivity in his home.

"It's that or St. Mungo's," he said, "And they would do the same thing, but with more paperwork." The attempt at a joke was appreciated, and Hermione tried to put a brave face on it.

"Merlin save us from that," she said, meeting his eyes again with her own. He could see that she was scared, and it brought back very unpleasant memories that he viciously shoved aside. Lucius took pity on her and sliced his palm cleanly with a small knife that was whisked out of sight again so quickly that Hermione was not sure where he had it secreted on his person.

"May I?" Lucius asked, pointing to the laceration. She nodded and prepared herself for the sting and burn as he healed the wound wordlessly, the flesh stitching back together with a flash of white and the drops of his blood. When he was finished he wordlessly healed his own palm with his wand, then turned his attention to the woods.

"What were you doing here?" Hermione asked him as he looked around at the clearing, the expression on his face a mixture of anger, fear, and calculation. "Did you follow me?"

Lucius looked back to her and his contempt was clear on his face. "Of course I followed you, you foolish girl! I have tried to tell you, but you persist in your delusional fiction that your work has no further repercussions beyond the damage you've already caused to the institution of marriage." He gripped her arms in both of his hands and shook her slightly. "Don't you see that this has the potential to cause another rift in the wizarding world? One too large to be healed? Already the Ministry is being deluged with owls from other countries, asking for the means to perform this testing. What do you think it will do to their wizarding communities? To the Squibs and Muggle-borns?"

"I hadn't thought…" Hermione began as he shook her again.

"Yes, I know! You damn well didn't think, and now all those nasty societal problems with integrating Muggle-borns into the wizarding world and Squibs back out to the Muggle one have been thrown into disarray! Interested parties on all sides are keen to rework the entire social order!" Lucius forced himself to let her go, and walked away for a pace before he turned back to her in anger.

"It does not require a _Voldemort_ to threaten the entire wizarding world, Granger. Simply one piece of very important information, which _you_ have unwittingly provided. Damn it, girl, this is far beyond you now. You've painted the biggest target on your back since Harry deflected the Avada! And you still don't see all the ramifications!" He had come back to her and grasped her hard, his face cold like granite and a plethora of emotions flashing through his eyes.

Hermione stiffened and felt herself growing angry. "What sort of ramifications? Yes, people will be forced into arranged marriages, but surely that is better than the alternative…"

"Stupid Mudblood!" Lucius forced himself not to dig his fingers into her arms. "Slavery? Muggle-wizard wars? An imposed caste system? Why do you think we have so many departments dedicated to Muggles? How was a Muggle-born Registration Commission so easy to sell? For the brightest witch of your age, you really are thick!"

"What can we do about it?" Hermione whispered, visions of wizarding wars spanning multiple continents flashing through her mind, leaping to life in a far more vivid reality than the dry lectures Binns had imparted at Hogwarts.

"We?" Lucius laughed, then suddenly sobered, his eyes distant and cool. "_We_ will focus on keeping you alive, Miss Granger, and _I_ will seek to minimize the path of damage."

He straightened his robes and Hermione looked at the mess that was her formerly pristine blouse. Lucius glanced at her and tossed out, "It's not worth trying to repair. Transfigure some robes for yourself. I will escort you the rest of the way into Hogsmeade. We should move along."

"Yes, of course," Hermione said automatically, then stubbornly set about repairing the blouse. She'd be damned before she took Lucius' suggestion to toss it. He may have enough money to throw around, but she did not. He watched her with irritation and finally turned his own wand toward her, delicately slicing off the last few torn and bloodstained ruffles.

"There. That's much better anyway," he huffed, and Hermione had to concede that he was correct. The blouse was simpler but charming, the blood spatters removed.

"You don't have to accompany me. I am sure that it will raise enough of a ruckus when I tell my friends what just happened."

Hermione backed away when he made to grab her again, and ignored the chill that raced down her spine as his eyes hardened. "You will tell NO ONE about this, Miss Granger. The less said about it, the better—for once the sharks smell your blood in the water, they will chase you down relentlessly. Do not advertise your precarious situation by foolishly involving the Auror Division."

"If I ask them, Ron and Harry will not tell anyone," Hermione retorted, her own temper flaring dangerously. White hot anger flashed across Lucius' face, and he shoved her against a tree, imprisoning her with his own body, sparks shooting from his wand. Hermione clenched her own wand tighter, but Lucius' eyes warned her not to try it.

"You will listen to me for once in your life, Mudblood. If I have to _compel_ a Wizarding oath from you on the subject, we can take care of that right now."

He noted the stubborn set of her jaw and pointed his wand at her face. "Which shall it be? Voluntary or involuntary?"

His body was heavy against hers and Hermione just wanted to get away from him. "Voluntary."

"Fine." Lucius grabbed her left hand in his own and pointed his wand at their joined hands. "You will promise not to speak of this incident unless I give you permission to do so. Do you agree?"

"Yes." The thin blue line snaked briefly around both of their hands and it was done.

Lucius abruptly dropped his knee from its place between her legs, and Hermione shakily smoothed her skirt where it had been crinkled upward slightly by Lucius' leg. He watched her and when she was finished, he said, "Now I will escort you into the Three Broomsticks and we will pretend I delayed you at work. I am well enough used to playing the villain, and to prove it, I will buy you a drink to show that you hold no hard feelings on the matter. And I will watch you the rest of the evening. I will know if you breathe even a hint of this event."

"You don't own me. I only work for you," Hermione snapped, and Lucius leaned closer, his mouth centimeters from her own.

"Tell me, Hermione, have you peeked at your slips of matches?"

The apparent non sequitur took her by surprise, and she was more flustered by that than Lucius' nearness, she realized dimly. It must have been shock setting in, as Lucius could perceive her pupils were dilated and she was trembling slightly, although he doubted she realized it. Courageous as ever, she truthfully said, "Of course not. My own marital prospects are the least of my concerns at this point!"

Lucius looked briefly at her mouth, then met her eyes again. "I think you're in for a greater shock than you realize, Granger." He seemed to recollect himself and pulled back smoothly as if he hadn't been pressed against her, intimidating her into compliance with his wishes. He held his arm out.

"Shall we?"

Hermione weighed the cost of defying him against the opportunity to speak in private with Ginny in the loo and decided that acquiescence was the safest path at the moment.

"Of course."

* * *

"Blimey, Harry, is Hermione on the arm of Lucius Malfoy?" Ron said incredulously from their booth in the duskier shadows at the rear of the Three Broomsticks.

"She definitely is, I can see the whiteness of his blonde hair," Lavender said, taking Ron's hand and squeezing it. Her improved eyesight was one of the few benefits from being bitten.

"That explains why she is late," Ginny said, gesturing to her empty glass. "Would you mind, pet?"

"Not at all, love," Harry replied, standing and making his way to the bar, where Hermione was standing stiffly next to Malfoy.

"About time you showed up Hermione," Harry said cheerfully, catching Rosmerta's eye. "Two more butterbeers, please."

"Yes, I delayed Miss Granger at the office," Lucius said, a coolly pleasant expression on his face as he touched Hermione's elbow and picked up the two glasses of elven wine which Rosmerta had just deposited. "To the surprises of tomorrow, Miss Granger."

The light caught on the cut crystal of the goblets. Of course Rosmerta knew better than to serve anything to Malfoy in an ordinary pewter tankard.

Hermione's tone was ironic as she replied, "May they be anything other than what you expect, Lucius," and then she swallowed a large mouthful of the wine. "If you'll excuse me, it's time I joined my friends."

Lucius nodded, a sardonic expression on his face, then settled in at the bar to keep an eye on Miss Granger. It would be a long evening, from the looks of it. Strangely this was not an unpleasant prospect. The dirty looks thrown his way by Weasley and Granger herself provided an amusing counterpoint to the dark murmurings of the wizards and witches that gave him a wide berth. It was unsurprising that none of those whom he considered friends were to be found in such an establishment at this time of day.

After about two hours, Harry pulled Hermione aside as she made to go to the loo with Ginny. "What's really going on, Hermione?"

His green eyes were sincere and worried, and Hermione resisted the urge to look in her boss' direction. To hell with him and what he thought, her friends were concerned about her.

"It's just that my work has ruffled a few feathers, Harry. Lucius is concerned that I haven't thought through the consequences."

"That doesn't explain why he feels it's suddenly necessary to keep an eye on you so blatantly, Hermione. Something has happened and you're not telling me the whole truth, and I don't like that." Harry's expression was serious and Lucius' laser-like focus was intent on her as they chatted quietly in the entrance to the hall toward the loos.

"The matches are going out in two days, Harry. A lot of people are nervous. We haven't let anyone peek at the results, and tensions are high. Can you blame Malfoy for being concerned? Who knows what someone might think to do…" Hermione trailed off as Lucius had appeared behind Harry's shoulder.

"Miss Granger, a private word?" His tone was clipped and brusque, but the look in his eyes said quite clearly exactly what he was going to say and probably do.

"Back off, Malfoy," Harry said with some heat. "She's your employee, not your fucking slave."

"What an interesting prospect, Mr. Potter. I assure you there are some in the Wizarding community who would appreciate a return of that particular custom, but surprisingly I am not among them. Granger?"

"I'd like Harry to hear whatever you have to say," Hermione said doggedly, raising her chin up a notch and staring down her boss. "Surely you agree it's _prudent_ under the circumstances, what with your _odious past_."

Lucius had to give her marks for the Slytherin nature of such a request. "A private room then. Two minutes."

He turned and strode to the counter, procuring a key and secreting it so quickly that no one noticed.

"What the hell…?" Harry started, but Hermione waved her hand to silence him as Ginny came back down the hall.

"Why are you so cross?" Ginny asked, her first check of Harry's expression revealing that her husband was none too happy.

"What did the Ferret Father want, eh?" Ron asked as he came over, Lavender on his arm.

"Oh, shut up, all of you!" Hermione said crossly. "Harry, now! The rest of you, stay here! We'll be right back."

Harry kissed Ginny quickly and turned to follow Hermione down the hall to the private dining rooms that Rosmerta hired out on an as-needed basis. The tingle of magic on the right door let them cross the threshold, the wards seamlessly reforming themselves behind them as the door closed. Lucius was impatiently awaiting them, a nervous energy thrumming through him.

"A Wizarding Oath, Potter, that nothing we say here will leave this room. Not even to your wife."

"Fine," Harry said brusquely. "And I'll be having your word that you'll protect Hermione after all the matches go out."

Lucius laughed briefly, the sudden flash of ill-timed humor on his face a bizarre moment in the unexpected tableau. "Fine, Potter."

They walked over to him and Lucius grabbed Harry's hand and Harry had his wand at the ready, pointing to their clasped hands. The streams of blue from their wands wrapped around their wrists, and Hermione cleared her throat. Her own left wrist tingled, and Lucius nodded permission so she began.

"I was attacked today in the woods on the path from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade. Lucius followed me and helped fight them off. It was Dolohov, Harry. But who the other wizards and witch were, we don't know."

She flashed her eyes again to Lucius, who added, "Certainly none of them were former Death Eaters. Perhaps hangers on, but Dolohov was in charge."

Harry was instantly alert, the Auror in him snapping to the fore. "How many?"

"Four. At first it was just Dolohov and another one, but when it became obvious to them that I wasn't an easy target, a third joined in."

"A Protean charm?"

"I presume so. I was a bit engaged at the time, and I didn't know how much longer I was going to hold them off, frankly." A shiver ran through her and Hermione again unwittingly met Lucius' eyes. He cleared his throat and stepped in.

"It was obvious to me that the ramifications of Miss Granger's work have riled those in certain circles. Add to that the fact that the Ministry is taking active steps to counteract the effects, and it was inevitable that some would seek to extract their revenge on the witch that was responsible for this calamity…at least in their view of things."

"And you expect me to believe that with your connections in those circles, you had no knowledge of this attack? That you were conveniently nearby to defend her, a Muggle-born whom you've always hated?" Harry's tone was steely, but Lucius met his gaze unflinchingly.

"Ask Hermione herself. I warned her that this was likely to occur." Lucius' tone was cool and his posture was negligently casual, but those who knew him would recognize it for a dangerous pose. He was like a panther, apparently at ease but in truth ready to strike at the least provocation. "She's damn lucky I've never been one to ignore my instincts on such matters."

Harry snorted and Hermione spoke to cover the discomfort. "I am glad that you did not."

Turning to Harry, she continued, "It was only when Lucius showed up that the fourth one arrived. It was dirty fighting—you know what I mean, Harry, really ugly stuff, and Lucius got two of them down while I sliced Dolohov. That was when they decided to retreat, and we were able to get away."

Harry was thinking hard, and Lucius snorted to himself. "Don't strain your cerebrum, Potter, on my account."

Harry ignored him, then said slowly, "Let me see your wand."

"Beg pardon?" Lucius said with a sneer, and Harry held out his hand.

"If you used an Unforgiveable, then the proof is in your wand. Now, I could leave it and let your enemies use it to frame you for some other nasty deed that they are doubtless committing right now, or you could let me do my job and protect my friend at the same time."

Lucius raised an eyebrow at this unexpected gesture of munificence, but handed over the curly maple wand.

"_Priori incantato_," Harry said in a business-like tone, and after two darker but legal curses heard the familiar tones of Malfoy's "_Crucio!_" He looked up to meet Hermione's eyes, who shrugged one shoulder before sliding her eyes away. Lucius was unrepentant, that much was clear from his stance, but Hermione's rendition of the attack had made it obvious by her obscure references that she felt it had been necessary. Harry sighed and used a nonverbal "_Damnatio memoriae_" to erase the record of the spell instead of the more common "_Deleo_".

"Don't let it happen again," Harry said, flipping the wand expertly back to Lucius.

"Do you really want me to _lie_ to you, Auror Potter?" Lucius sneered, and Hermione pushed them apart.

"Enough of this. Harry, you keep your ear to the ground and find out what is being done about the rising tide of ill will regarding the Ministry's directives. People are more willing to talk to the Chosen One than an ex-Death Eater. Perhaps a visit to Luna is in order?"

Hermione pivoted and faced her nemesis-turned-odd ally. "And you. I know you aren't telling me something." She paused and took in Lucius' body language. "Several somethings. Arrgh, you are the most—infuriating! Irritating! Obnoxious!"

"Yes, yes, I'm well aware of your feelings Granger. The fact remains that you are an irritating little Mudblood with no sense of how the Wizarding world actually works, and still less sense of how to handle this. Fortunately or unfortunately for you, I am also involved in this clusterfuck—and as such, I assure you, I will remain involved until it is resolved to my satisfaction."

Harry turned to Lucius, suspicion clouding his face. "This isn't your style, Malfoy. Usually you run and dodge anything so sticky and messy. Why are you still here?"

"My reasons are my own, _Potter_. May I assume you will see that Miss Granger is safely returned to her home this evening?"

"You insult me to even ask that," Harry said as Hermione added, "I can take care of myself, Lucius!"

"I know, Potter. That's why I do it." Lucius' tone was pettily condescending. Bowing shallowly to Hermione, Lucius left the room swiftly without even a nod to Harry.

"Arrogant bastard," Harry said, and Hermione folded her arms across her chest.

"Of course he is. I just wish I knew what it is he won't tell me. That worries me more than any Dolohovs in the corner."


	5. The Queen's Gambit

**I can't contain myself, I have to post this chapter today as well. Let me tell you, you haven't begun to see sparks. And why is Lucius so obsessed with Hermione's birth? Is he really that racist (possibly), or does he have other motives? And why does Hermione keep talking to the blasted man at all outside of the office? Surely she wants nothing to do with him, doesn't she? Kudos to Silent Lioness and roseberrygirl for the quick reviews, thank you! Here it is, another chapter just for your quick keyboards! Keep reading...(and reviewing!)**

* * *

The decision to send out the owls notifying of potential matches on a Sunday was designed to keep people from erupting in a boil of emotions at their workplace, but also not give them enough time to get worked up or melancholic at home before they had to report to their workplaces the next day. It had been Kingsley's brain child, and given the sensitive nature of the deliveries they opted to use Ministry owls and charmed scrolls that were keyed to each addressee's magical signatures. The whole process was cumbersome but the most elegant and appropriate one under the circumstances. The sight of the owls taking flight en masse from the Ministry would have been a beautiful sight to behold, had not Kingsley known what news they contained. There were many shocks which the Wizarding world had withstood in the past three decades, but Kingsley wondered if this was the final crushing blow. Not for the first time he felt himself feeling a great deal of empathy for Albus Dumbledore, for surely this is what he had felt overseeing the resistance to Voldemort.

The genetic analysis had been a very complicated piece of work, and the nature of the gene's placement and potential for allele swapping had cut down the possible matches rather than enhance them. Some wizards and witches were being told they would have to wait and see if a potential match showed up in the next few years as underage wizards and witches reached marriageable age. Others were greeted with the news that their chosen spouses were residents of St. Mungo's permanently disabled ward, or were so old as to have been presumed to be incapable of siring or bearing children until tests had proven otherwise. Potions companies were already hard at work increasing their stocks of lust potions in anticipation of increased demand. Very, very few couples that had petitioned to be allowed to marry the partner of their choosing had proven to be matches. It was, in short, a day of total agony for those who had been spared the shock of non-magical children. Now, to obtain magical children, they would be forced into arranged marriages to spouses that were unknown at best and completely undesirable at worst. The lucky, lucky few who had more than one match would have the luxury of choice.

The tawny owl that delivered Lucius' parchment was a typical specimen of the species, but Lucius didn't care about the scroll tied around its leg. He retrieved it and sent the owl off with a rasher from the breakfast table. Ordinarily he didn't give a damn about treating a Ministry owl, but this owl would likely be hexed more than once today and it seemed right that at least one wizard thanked it for its thankless work. He did not need to read the scroll to know what it said, but he broke the seal and unrolled it anyway.

His slip of paper had only one name. _Hermione Granger_. He swirled his glass of firewhiskey and took another swallow. That was not the worst part. Lucius had resigned himself to that quite quickly, all things considered. No, the worst part was that Hermione had a quite a few enemies who were determined to eliminate the source of the trouble, so to speak, and another match who was totally unprepared for the job of defending her.

Lucius took a long swallow of the liquor, the burn pleasant compared to the burn of his thoughts. **Now** the game was on. The other player in this game was now aware that there was a game being played, and Lucius had already moved halfway across the board. He felt absolutely no compunction, no guilt…because he had no intention of letting Hermione Granger slip through his fingers.

* * *

Hermione stretched her neck and yawned. Last night she had only allowed herself one butterbeer after the glass of wine, and Harry had stopped drinking entirely after their tête-a-tête with Lucius Malfoy. Ginny had accepted Harry's refusal to talk about it with good grace, but surprisingly it had been Lavender who reminded Ron that everyone was entitled to their private arguments when he had been intent on forcing the issue.

"It's none of our business, Ron. I'm sure you wouldn't appreciate it if Hermione attempted to foist her way into an ongoing problem with Underwood, so leave it alone."

Hermione could have kissed her former roommate, but settled for a warm smile. "Thanks, Lavender."

Now, as she looked at the start of D-Day, as she had privately called it, she hoped that she would not be too shocked with the contents of her slip. Such a small thing, to hold such power over a person. It proved her assertion that Wizards were not as immune to fate as they liked to believe. Her residence being close to the Ministry, the owl arrived quite soon. She had not even finished her first cup of tea. Her hand was steady, of course, as she reached for the parchment, then handed the owl a treat from the bowl before it flew off through the window. A short-eared owl, she noticed absentmindedly, before taking a deep breath and breaking the seal on the parchment.

_Neville Longbottom_

_ Lucius Malfoy_

Her teacup crashed to the floor as the characters made sense in her brain. _Oh my God_.

* * *

Hermione had done many things after her brain had resumed its normal functions. She had thought about Floo calling Ginny. She had thought about Floo calling Neville. She had NOT thought about Floo calling Lucius. In the end she had done none of those. For all she knew, Neville had multiple matches as well. As for Lucius…well, she doubted it. It explained his behavior of the past few days, nothing else did.

What she had done was block her Floo. Frankly, she didn't want to talk to anyone. _Think, think, think_…

"Oh bloody hell! I don't want to think about it anymore!"

It did not matter that she was shouting at herself. It felt good to shout, to scream at the permutations and confidence intervals. Finally she gripped the edge of her kitchen table, nearly hysterical with the bout of laughter that seized her. _She_ knew why the situation was so funny.

"Oh, that is good." Hermione wiped the tears from her eyes, then resolved to share the joke with the only person who would understand it. It took her a few minutes to get herself dressed. She took the extra few minutes required to tame her hair into a semblance of calm, the sleek chignon the antithesis of the roil of emotions in her gut. She walked over to the fireplace and calmly unblocked the Floo, wandlessly dismissing an incoming call. Grabbing a handful of Floo powder, she called out distinctly, "Malfoy Manor," and stepped into the flames.

* * *

The whoosh of the fireplace in his study caused Lucius to straighten; his face a polite mask as he turned to greet her. He had anticipated that the Gryffindor in her would demand a confrontation once she put the pieces together.

"Hermione, welcome." Further words were pointless, as they both knew why she was there.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Hermione said furiously, her shoulders shaking with rage.

"Tell you what, my dear? Why I have just found out, Miss Granger! Surely you don't mean to imply that I broke the wards set by the MLE on the slips, do you?"

"I don't care how you did it. I just want to know: how many matches does Neville have?"

"I'm afraid I have not the pleasure of understanding what you mean," Lucius said, gesturing to a chair as if polite discourse were possible. Hermione ground her teeth and ignored him.

"This is why you followed me. You don't give a damn about my safety, except I am your only match! You know that the Ministry will keep retesting until they find a match for you, and rather than deal with an unknown quantity, for whatever despicable reason you've decided that I'll do if you must remarry!"

"Reason_s_, Miss Granger." He drawled the plural with a sibilant hiss. "Perhaps you've confused me with some ignorant Hufflepuff…a dangerous mistake from the woman who will be my _wife_."

"I'd sooner marry Neville than marry you!" Hermione spat. "I'd send him the owl right now, but I wanted to confront you to your face before I did it!"

Lucius drew closer, resembling the snake of his former House in his mannerisms and the cold glint in his eyes. "And what if Mr. Longbottom has multiple matches? What if he chooses other than you, Miss Granger? You only have two choices, and one of them _will_ be your husband. But that isn't all, is it? You, the insufferable know-it-all of Gryffindor House, you have already realized that; it's why you're here now. You are wondering if it is possible to win that lottery, if the dominoes will fall _just so_ in order that you may escape me and marry that noble but thick herbologist and carve some semblance of a life for yourself. Is it possible, Granger, that of the few who have multiple matches, yours will synchronize so perfectly as to allow you to leave an eligible wizard single?"

Hermione clenched her fists and took a deep breath, every single one of Lucius' words like a sharp echo of what she had already asked herself in the privacy of her own flat.

"Yes, you've already leapt there—brava, Hermione! But you fail to realize exactly how determined the Ministry is to ensure that as many fertile pairs are bonded as possible. Firewhiskey?" Lucius wandlessly summoned the decanter and two glasses, holding one up in question to her.

Hermione stammered, "What? No!" to which Lucius replied, "Suit yourself," before pouring himself a generous portion and taking a swig.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked slowly, turning to keep a wary eye on Lucius as he prowled around her, sizing her up in a manner that once again reminded her of a panther.

"So noble and naïve," Lucius taunted. "Did you honestly think the Ministry would give you all a _choice_? Stupid girl! They've already run all the permutations, and they already know exactly how to maximize the number of marriages. The sham of choice is just that—a sham! Those who choose incorrectly will be quietly visited by the Ministry and made to see reason, with a few targeted Obliviates as necessary to ensure the narrative unfolds just as it should. I assure you, the Unspeakables are all too ready to accomplish the task of _persuading_ those unfortunate wizards and witches who don't fall in line with the preferred matches."

Hermione's head was reeling, and Lucius could read the shock on her face, although she was struggling to maintain a brave face to him. He pressed his advantage, sending the glass across the room with a shot and grabbing her at the waist, half of his body pressed into hers. She met his intense stare with a loathful one of her own, and Lucius chuckled darkly.

"I'll take my chances," she said steelily, and Lucius pulled her flush against him, his eyes flashing with anger of his own.

"No, I don't think you will. You see, if I must remarry, I have decided that my additional children should have the best possible genes to carry on the Malfoy name. And who better than the brightest witch of her age? I could do much, much worse, Miss Granger, and as you know, I am only accustomed to the best."

With that, he crushed his lips to hers, and Hermione found that he was quite immovable, the push of her hands against his chest utterly useless. She was about to use her wand when he removed it using wandless and wordless magic, a performance that he found worthwhile enough to stop kissing her lips long enough to taunt her.

"There are many things you don't know about me, Miss Granger, but I can you promise you, you will find them out over the course of what I plan to be a very long and fruitful union."

"You detestable—" Hermione started hotly, but he attacked her mouth again, his lips slanting expertly over hers, teasing hers while his tongue made hay of the opportunity of her open mouth. Hermione tried to speak but her tongue was tangled in his, and she tried to push it from her mouth with her own. Somehow, though, the signal got mixed up in her brain, and their tongues began a sensual game of strokes and counter-strokes, their lips matching the game with undulations and twists that sent Hermione's body temperature through the roof and her hands around his neck and through his silky hair. Dimly she was aware of the feel of magic spontaneously shedding from her body, and through her lashes saw the white flash. Lucius groaned into her mouth and she felt his arousal pressing into her belly. It finally gave her the willpower she needed to break the kiss with a gasp, her panic evident over the turn of events. Her brain seized on the last piece of information that could put a stop to this, and she breathily but stubbornly asked, "Who is Neville's other match?"

Lucius actually growled at her, his quicksilver eyes flashing dangerously with lust and possessiveness. "It doesn't make a damn bit of difference, because you will be marrying me."

"Poppa! Poppa!"

"Father, I…" Draco strolled in to the room, Scorpius hard on his heels.

Lucius let go of Hermione abruptly and crouched down as the toddler launched himself into his arms. "Hello, little love," he crooned as Draco smirked at Hermione.

"Well, I was going to ask who I get to call 'Mummy', but I can see the answer in the flesh. Tell me, Granger, does this satisfy any little fantasies from school days?"

"Sod off, Malfoy," Hermione bit out quietly, her mind assailed by a conflicting mass of emotions. "I have more than one match, so nothing is fixed."

Lucius appeared to be ignoring them as he focused on Scorpius' babbling, but Hermione knew he was probably picking up every word. Draco merely grinned more broadly and replied, "I think you should know that what a Malfoy wants, a Malfoy gets…and to my eyes, it looks to me like my father very much wants you, Granger."

"That's it, I'm going home," Hermione said, then turned to walk to the fireplace before she remembered that Lucius still had her wand. She turned back to meet Lucius' mocking eyes, and he gently pushed the toddler from his arms. Scorpius seemed to notice her for the first time, his eyes studying her curiously.

"Who are you?"

Lucius drew to his feet and led Scorpius over to Hermione. "This is Hermione, Scorpius. You'll be getting to know her quite well in the future."

"How does a gentleman meet a lady?" Draco prompted, his arms crossed across his chest. This was going to be highly entertaining.

Scorpius pulled himself to his full, tiny height, then bowed. His babyish posture and chubby cheeks rendered it a charming picture, and Hermione could not help smiling at him.

"And I am pleased to meet you as well, Scorpius," Hermione bent down to shake his hand, then straightened and flushed. "My wand, please."

Draco snorted and Lucius shot his son a reproachful look, though his eyes were mirthful. "Sure you won't stay for breakfast?"

"No thank you." Hermione was clearly at the end of her patience, and Lucius relented and proferred her wand, giving it an experimental flick before flipping it around toward her. "It suits you."

The flicker of sparks from the tip of her own wand in Lucius Malfoy's hand was almost more intimate than their kisses. Drawing a breath, she turned back to the Floo and vanished quickly in a flash of green after stating her destination quietly.

"Well, that was interesting," Draco said, ignoring Scorpius pulling at his trousers. "How long have you known she was your match?"

"Weeks," Lucius said absentmindedly. "Naturally, she was too honest to look herself."

"Naturally. Who else is she matched with?" Draco asked, studying his father's pensive profile.

"Longbottom," he looked at Draco and stopped him before he could say a word. "It doesn't matter now. We've completed the third step of the courtship ritual. She will be marrying me, whether she realizes it or not."

"Worked fast, haven't you?"

Draco was unsurprised by his father's decision. After all, if he had to remarry, it had better be the best—and he grudgingly admitted that Granger was, indeed, the best. Draco picked up Scorpius who was getting quite insistent for some attention, and transfigured a paper clip into a small ball for him to play with.

"She knows _nothing_ of our world—how connections snarl or propel individuals and families to the heights of success or nadirs of despair. She has no idea how much she has to learn. It's almost unfathomable, the amount of ignorance." Lucius' tone was pensive, and Draco wondered exactly what sorts of thoughts were chasing each other in his father's head.

"Yet you are capable of teaching her, aren't you? It's a problem that all Muggle-borns face. There aren't any books that fully capture the intricacies of wizarding etiquette, and not enough time in school to make a dint, much to Granger's dismay. And she is certainly quick enough to learn fast."

"It's all irrelevant if I cannot protect her from the hell she's unleashed. I haven't even been able to pinpoint the scope of the problem," Lucius said grimly, then met Draco's eyes. "I believe it has spread beyond our borders."

They were both thinking of the French side of the family. "You know we will help you as much as possible," Draco said quietly, and Lucius smiled at his son.

"I know." He turned his attention back to his grandson, who had indeed lost interest in the ball and was now tugging at his grandfather's leg in the hopes of some attention. "Now, little one, how about a spin on my broom before breakfast?"


	6. Strategic Retreat

**Oh my. I love all the reviews! Thank you, thank you! Yes, they are quite the pair, aren't they? I'm quite comfortable with the pace at which the story is unfolding, I will eventually get you all caught up to my writing pace and then you'll have to wait a bit longer between posts, but we're not quite there yet. This is feeling like quite a stretch, similar to my last fanfic-so I'm guessing I'll hit 100k words or so? I'm just running with it and am quite happy to have so many of you along for the fun! Let's see what Hermione does now, and let me know what you think is going to happen next! ;)**

* * *

"Good morning, Hermione," Harry said sleepily, heading straight for the coffee pot. Hermione was seated at the kitchen table already with Ginny, a hot cup of tea in hand while Ginny charmed the cereal to stay on the tray in front of Albus. Her friend looked at her expectantly as she finished, sending four slices of bread into the toaster without a thought.

"So? Who is it?"

Ginny was sure it wasn't a good answer, given Hermione's distraught state when she arrived ten minutes ago. She was her mother's daughter, pressing Hermione into a chair in the kitchen and making tea after stating matter of factly, "It will look better after a nice chat and a cup of tea."

"It's not so bad, really—I have two matches, so I have a choice." Her throat closed on the last word, remembering what Lucius had said. She had no doubt that he was correct. Wizarding blood ran deep, and he had connections in the Ministry she could not have guessed at. If anyone would have inside information, it was Lucius Malfoy.

"And? Who are they?" Harry peered at her over the rim of his coffee mug, his hair still sleep tousled. Before she could say, James barreled into the kitchen, loudly demanding breakfast. Ginny flicked her wand and the toast flew from the toaster onto a plate, where butter and jam were soon spread. Harry pulled the milk from the refrigerator and poured it wandlessly without thinking, the cup set in place by Ginny at just the right moment. It was a cozy scene of domesticity, and Hermione suddenly burst into tears.

"Oh, hey now, it's not that bad, Hermione!" Harry said, patting his friend on the shoulder even though he knew nothing of the kind.

"It's all horrible, horrible!" Hermione sobbed as Ginny squeezed into the chair next to her and gave her a hug.

"Just tell us who it is. There's no point beating around the bush," Ginny coaxed, and Hermione sat back, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"You're right. It's not so bad. My first match is Neville Longbottom." Hermione paused as Harry and Ginny exchanged a glance.

"That's not bad at all, is it, Hermione?"

"It's not him I'm worried about, it's the other one! It's," Hermione took a deep breath, then rushed out, "Lucius Malfoy!"

Ginny grabbed her hand while Harry's eyes widened and he sat down at the table.

"Well, you'll just have to be married to Neville, then. At least he's our age, Hermione, and I'm sure that he'll be a very good husband and father." Gin was disappointed, she'd been hoping for George. It would have made her family happier with the situation if Hermione had been matched with one of her still single brothers.

Harry knew better.

"That's why he was with you, wasn't it?" His stare was level and calm, but Hermione knew he was thinking about the Wizarding oath.

"He knew about the match ahead of time?" Ginny said, darting a quick glance at Hermione before swiping James' face with a wet cloth to remove jam.

"Of course he did," Harry muttered, shaking his head. "It's what they do—use any opportunity to get ahead, keep themselves safe. But you don't have to choose him, Hermione. Thank God you have more than one match!"

Hermione shook her head. "You don't understand, Harry. It's not that simple."

Ginny understood first, the realization dawning on her face and quickly tamped down.

"That's not necessarily the way it will be, Hermione," she said quietly, standing up to remove the fussing Albus from the high chair and skirt round the table to catch James' hand. "I promised them a bath, Hermione. I'm sorry."

"Of course, Gin. I'll be fine, really."

"What has the Ministry done now?" Harry asked, not missing the glance his wife and best friend exchanged.

"Did you _ever_ pay attention in History of Magic class, Harry?" Hermione asked in that irritated way that made him feel like they were back in the common room at Hogwarts.

"What? The only people who pay attention in that class are…" Harry wisely shut up when he saw Hermione's glower.

"The Ministry has the power to invoke the right of 'Ad Majorum Bonum'—literally, 'for the greater good'. It allows them extraordinary powers to stabilize society in the event of threats to the existence of the wizarding community."

"More proof that Dumbledore was more of a Minister of Magic than any of that lot that paraded through the office during Voldemort's reign of terror," Harry snorted. The corner of Hermione's mouth quirked up, but it quickly fell again.

"The point, Harry, is that the Ministry cannot afford to allow real choice in this matter. They need the most marriages possible to produce magical children. Lucius said that the plans are already in place to compel the choices that produce the most overall marriages."

Harry interrupted her. "What do you mean, Lucius told you? Did you see him today?"

"I went to Malfoy Manor to confront him. I was so angry about yesterday, Harry; I didn't stop to think about it."

"Did he do something?" Harry's eyes were intent, and Hermione laughed weakly.

"He's Lucius Malfoy, of course he 'did something', Harry! But the _point_ is that _he's right_. If the probabilities don't match up perfectly, there is no way I will be able to refuse him!"

"I'll report him," Harry began, but Hermione stopped him.

"No, it wouldn't do any good. What charges could you bring? And he'd weasel out of anything anyway, it would just make him angrier about the situation." Hermione bit her lip nervously, forcing remembrances of this morning from her head. "The longer I have to think about it, the more I realize that he's going to be my husband."

"Wait, now, Hermione. Surely with two matches, that means you have a 50% chance of being allowed to marry Neville. That's hardly time to begin planning your wedding to Malfoy!"

Hermione grimaced and put her head in her hands on the table. She mumbled something and Harry asked her to repeat herself, not understanding a word she said. She lifted her head tiredly and looked at him with a look of hopelessness.

"It's not just a question of genetic matches, Harry. The models also take into account age differences and past evidence of parenthood. In other words, the odds are stacked significantly in Lucius' favor. It is far more likely that he, a successful breeder of a magical son who has now produced a magical son of his own despite pureblood marriages, would be successful in siring more magical children. And, the Ministry wants to minimize cases of sixty, seventy, or eighty year old wizards and witches waiting year over year for some young thing to graduate Hogwarts and be available for marriage! Do you understand what I'm telling you?" Hermione paused for a millisecond to stare at the moving picture of Ginny and Harry on their wedding day that hung on the kitchen wall, both sporting wide smiles and sharing a kiss, then looked back to Harry. "There is no way I will NOT have to marry Lucius Malfoy."

"Right." Harry pushed up from the table and patted Hermione on her shoulder. "I'm sorry that I don't understand all the details, Hermione, but please believe me when I say that you have alternatives to marrying Lucius Malfoy. You could emigrate, go live elsewhere. The Ministry have all your methods, you don't have to stay and bear more of the costs yourself."

Hermione straightened her spine and infused her voice with as much dignity as she could. "I cannot believe that you, Harry James Potter, would suggest that I run away. You certainly know better."

"It would not be running away, Hermione. Just a temporary retreat until you find the answer for the children. You can't tell me you're not working on it already," Harry's tone was half-joking, and Hermione knew he was trying to jolly her out of her despair. He didn't honestly think her capable of leaving, nor did he want her to.

"No, it would, Harry. What kind of person would I be if I told the rest of the wizarding world what kind of unpleasant medicine they had to swallow, but wasn't willing to take it myself? No, I can't go anywhere." Hermione straightened her shoulders and Harry smiled at her with a fond smile.

"Well, at least you don't have to marry him right away, Hermione. You can put it off as long as possible, and maybe by then it won't even be necessary," Harry said as they walked up the stairs to the boys' bathroom by mutual unspoken agreement. Hermione wanted a very tangible reminder of why she was prepared to do this. Seeing Lucius with Scorpius had put a picture in her head that she couldn't easily dismiss.

Ginny was rinsing soap off of James while Albus splashed happily in his smaller infant tub inside the larger bath. "Worked it all out, have you?" she asked with a huff as James ducked his head under the water and Albus squealed with glee. "Harry?"

Harry picked up a fluffy towel and plucked his baby son from the bath. "Mostly. I was telling Hermione at least she doesn't have to marry him right away." Catching Hermione's expression, he passed the baby to her, and Hermione softly wiped the water from the baby.

"That's right, Hermione. You haven't engaged in any courtship rituals with him, have you? Because that would put a different spin on things…" Ginny turned to see Harry half catching Albus as Hermione sat down hard on the loo. "Hermione?!"

"I don't know," Hermione said, and Ginny's eyes widened.

"Hermione, how can you not know? What did you do?"

"I didn't think about it—why would I think about _that_ anyway? The last time courtship rituals were even in use was over five hundred years ago, it's not like they are ever used anymore. All the books hardly mention them," Hermione protested, and Ginny shoved a wet James toward Harry.

"Take care of them. You, come with me," Ginny snapped, and pulled Hermione back downstairs to their living room, where bookshelves were strewn with carelessly stacked tomes. "_Accio Matrimonium_!"

A dusty, thin book flew from the shelf and Ginny began to page through it. "What has he had you do?"

"What sorts of things would qualify? I work for him, for Merlin's sake! It's an office, people bring food and we share drinks, etcetera—what would it look like?"

Ginny flipped her hair over her shoulder and started listing possibilities. "A tonic? Did he give you a handkerchief? Any formal occasions recently where you had to dance with him? Accept any gifts?"

"Let me see that," Hermione said with irritation after shaking her head again. "What would a courtship ritual look like? What would be the effects?"

"I forget how many little things you and Harry don't know," Ginny said apologetically, and Hermione sat up straighter. It was bad enough that Lucius threw that in her face incessantly, she didn't need to hear it from her best friend as well. "Courtship rituals used to be required as part of a betrothal, particularly for purebloods. Over time they changed again and again, until it grew to crazy proportions because no one could be sure they were doing them correctly. Since that time, they fell out of favor, but they still have legal weight on the books. If he's managed to get you to complete one, not only are you as good as married already, but you'll have to do it soon."

"Why? What could possibly be done via a courtship ritual that would necessitate a quicker marriage?"

"It depends on the ritual itself. Some of them compel you to spend time together, until you're practically living together and other people, presumably the parents, would force the ceremony. Others act in a way similar to lust potions, and others make you physically ill if you don't complete a bonding ritual of some type."

"That's horrid! Who on earth thought that such things could be a good idea?" Hermione said, drawing her hand away from the book and managing to give herself a paper cut on the sharp edge of the page she'd been clenching.

"They've been popular from time to time in the wizarding community." Ginny's expression was somber, and Hermione deduced exactly when—when pureblood families were establishing their fiefdoms and ironclad control in the wizarding world.

"What did he do while you were at Malfoy Manor, Hermione? And don't try to fob me off the way you can with Harry." Ginny was channeling the full force of Molly Weasley, and Hermione withered under her unrelenting stare.

"He kissed me," she blurted out, a rush of blood coloring her cheeks, which caused Ginny to look at her skeptically.

"Did you kiss him back?" Ginny's expression was stern, and Hermione was horribly embarrassed. Ginny Potter had every reason to hate Lucius Malfoy, and she had been snogging him this morning!

Hermione looked away from her best female friend and Ginny clucked her tongue. "You did, didn't you? You think he's sexy, admit it."

Hermione's gaze flew back to Ginny's and she blushed even more hotly. "No, no! Of course not, he's an ex-Death Eater, an arrogant prick, a selfish bastard—"

"With sexy long blonde hair, a body that is just as fit as a man half his age, a wicked sense of humor and magical ability in spades. Or had those little tidbits escaped your notice?" Ginny drawled as she sat back on the couch. "Uh-huh. I thought not. I'm the last person on earth to have anything good to say about Lucius Malfoy, but I'm not dead."

"If you're intimating that I would _want_ to _choose_ Lucius Malfoy…" Hermione sputtered, but Ginny held up a hand.

"Save it for Harry and Ron. I know you. He turns you on." Ginny's face was understanding but calculating, her mind turning over the strong likelihood of her friend's rapidly approaching nuptials with one Lucius Malfoy. Harry and Ron would go crazy. She herself detested the man, but she had to admit that he had changed since the war, even if he was still a racist bastard. And Hermione had hardly been the type to throw herself into meaningless relationships. No, the wizard to conquer her had to conquer her brain first, and her body would follow along. Strangely enough, she thought Lucius Malfoy may have already done so. She was going to have to have a little pow-wow with Lavender to plan some strategic containment initiatives.

Hermione was wildly embarrassed and sought the quickest end to the conversation possible.

"May I borrow this?" she asked Ginny, clutching the book. "I think I'd like to go home now. Tomorrow will be difficult enough as it is."

"You needn't ask," Ginny said, then touched her arm. "Please tell us if we can do anything. As it is, I think I'll have to sit on Harry to keep him from going to Malfoy Manor and demanding to know what Lucius has done."

Hermione's lips quirked. "I don't doubt that, Gin. However, we both know he wouldn't tell Harry anything unless he was faced with a certain stay in Azkaban. Barring that, I will have to deal with him on my own."

"Be careful; but be honest with yourself, Hermione," Ginny said quietly as she hugged her, then stood back as Hermione whirled away with a pop.

* * *

Hermione spent the rest of the day combing through the book she had gotten from Ginny. She didn't find anything that she recognized, which was a relief. She had no idea how she would deal with Lucius tomorrow, but first she had to address the note that had arrived by owl from Neville. It was polite and a bit bumbling, just like Neville himself. He had the good grace not to mention who his other match was, but he was honest enough to say that he had another one. He had suggested they meet for a coffee sometime during the week, and Hermione thought this sounded like a very sensible suggestion. She knew that Lucius had a department head meeting every Thursday, so she scribbled a quick note to suggest lunchtime on Thursday, then sent Lucifer off.

That task completed, Hermione turned to her own library for anything that might possibly reference courtship rituals. She had a bad feeling about Beltane, but thus far nothing had turned up in her books. She ate a bowl of cold cereal for dinner and fell asleep over a book.

The next day was awkward, to say the least. It seemed everyone knew of her match to Lucius, and she was greeted with smirks and unsubtle hints that she'd find it easier to advance now. Her cheeks flushed bright red and she bit out a nasty reply, flouncing away from the insolent wizard. It was easier to mock someone else than ponder your own situation, apparently, and her co-workers were readily abusing the privilege. Jessamine as a French citizen was exempt from the hubbub; besides, she had a fiancé back home, or so she claimed.

"Oh, Hermione, how lucky you are. He may be twice your age, but Monsieur Malfoy is quite the handsome devil, and he's rich too! You are a lucky witch to make out so well in the face of this disaster."

The curvaceous witch's remark reeked of such ignorance that Hermione could only stare.

"You do know that he was a Death Eater? Responsible for an unknown number of atrocities, and here only by dint of his turncoating at the last possible minute?" Hermione's eyes snapped with anger, a fact which Jessamine either ignored or didn't note.

"That was years ago now. Surely you have moved on from such history. What is past is past, you must think of your children together."

"I've had enough," Hermione said, and shut the cover of the report they were supposed to be reviewing. "I have some work to do in the library. Excuse me."

Lucius, who was passing by the conference room and had shamelessly eavesdropped on their conversation, smiled to himself and popped his head into his office.

"Yasmin, I will be in the library if anyone is looking for me. I need a word with Miss Granger."

Yasmin smiled and nodded. "Of course, sir. I will ensure you're not disturbed on this end."

"Thank you, dear lady," Lucius said charmingly. The witch was one hundred if she was a day, but she dyed her hair and could have passed for eighty. He could have had some bright young thing as his secretary, of course, but Yasmin was on good speaking terms with every other secretary and administrative assistant throughout the higher echelons of the Ministry, a quality of much higher worth than a nice pair of legs. She was also the worst gossip on the floor, and he was quite certain that everyone would be convinced that he and Hermione had snuck off for a snog session before the afternoon was over.

Hermione was aware that Lucius had arrived at the Ministry library, his sibilant tones as he discussed trivialities with the staff librarian reaching her ears just in time. She summoned the books pertaining to courtship rituals, shrunk them, and shoved them into her handbag. She'd apologize later for not checking them out properly. It ate up precious seconds, and she could practically feel him prowling past on the balcony aisle on the other end of the bookcases. She cast a disillusionment charm and moved steadily in the opposite direction, then halted when she smelled his cologne. He even smelled like a dark wizard, his cologne a spicy blend of cedar and musk, a distinctive scent that was his alone.

He paused not ten feet from her and she held as still as possible, determined that she would not give away her position. She felt weak for hiding, but after yesterday she wasn't prepared to deal with him unless she knew exactly what was going on between them.

"This is one of my favourite games, Miss Granger," Lucius drawled, his expression one of amusement. "Not, however, one I would choose to play at work. My office, five minutes. Be there, or I will write you up."

Well aware that he had been heard, Lucius turned and made his way down the spiral staircase, his robes swirling behind him.

"Like hell will I come running like an obedient little witch," Hermione seethed, and nodded curtly to the librarian as she exited the facility. She was making her way up to the Disapparation Lobby when she turned her head to check behind her and caught a glimpse of Lucius, a flinty stare rapidly exchanged between them. He was still stuck in the lift, the gates not having been opened yet, and Hermione wove through the crowds in the lobby with an alacrity she had not exhibited since the break-in at Gringotts. She reached the foyer just in time and disapparated on the spot, focused intently on Hogwarts—the one place she was quite certain she would be able to avoid Lucius for at least the next twenty four hours.

* * *

A scant twenty minutes later, she was sitting on a chair in the Headmistress' office and explaining her predicament. Minerva was up to date on the Ministry goings-on, but people were being tight-lipped about their own personal situations, and this was the first she had heard of Hermione's matches and the likely finagling of Lucius Malfoy. She pursed her lips and sat back in her chair. Hermione had been out of Hogwarts for nearly ten years, but Minerva still felt quite attached to the young woman, and this was her first true taste of real unpleasantness in the wizarding community that had not been brought about by a malevolent and violent wizard, but rather the consequences of a society steeped in racist indulgences and weak moral fiber. It was a painful reality, but she could not shield her from it.

"Have you considered what it would be like to be married to him, Hermione?" Minerva's dark eyes glinted and her no-nonsense expression was in full evidence.

"I have thought about it, yes," Hermione admitted. "I will say he is dedicated to his family with a fervor that puts even the Weasleys to shame. He is also quite good at survival, even if I vehemently oppose the means by which he does so."

Minerva sat forward and folded her hands across her knees. "It is good that you are taking these things into account, my dear, because I hate to tell you, regardless of any rituals he may have invoked, you will very likely find yourself married to him before the year is out! Now I know that you have a match in Longbottom as well, but frankly I doubt the Ministry will overlook the fact that a witch of your caliber and experience is far, far more likely to keep Lucius in line than some young thing fresh out of my school."

Hermione's face fell and Minerva felt a wave of tender compassion for her star pupil. "I'm sure you will, what is the expression of the Muggles—'make lemon drops from lemons'?"

Hermione smiled. "Almost—lemonade from lemons."

Minerva sighed. "Ah well dear, Muggles were rather more Albus' specialty, at least, their confections."

She turned her head toward the portrait behind her. Albus' portrait was sleeping, else he would likely have piped up to join the conversation. Another portrait, however, had been following their conversation with interest.

"It is also worth noting, Miss Granger," the drawl of her name was another echo from the past, tinged with sarcasm, but still awakening a terrible sense of loss in her heart, "that Lucius is the only ex-Death Eater who has demonstrated a tremendous capacity for love. He loved Narcissa until the day she died, and that is a gift beyond price. Perhaps, if you are very _fortunate_, you might secure such a love for yourself."

"Thank you, Severus," Minerva said, then stood and gestured to the door. "Now, dear, I imagine you will want a peek in the Restricted section while you are here. Let us see what we have about courtship rituals."

Almost thirty-six hours passed before Hermione found an obscure reference in a tome so riddled with age the words were practically indistinguishable from the age spots on the leaves of parchment. She was using a strong 'Lumos' charm to illuminate the page from behind, which would send Madame Pince into fits if she had caught her doing it. Fortuitously it was the dinner hour, and the librarian was absent from the cavernous library, allowing Hermione to do as she liked for a blessed hour. She had attended breakfast in the great hall this morning, where she had ignored Lucius' howler about not showing up for work. She had incinerated it in a puff of ash before it really got going, much to the delight of some sniggering sixth years. It didn't matter. She had to find out what he had done.

Bringing her mind back to the present, she brightened the charm imperceptibly, as the words were written in a very cramped hand and required strong light to make them out.

_The bonfires of Beltane represent a time of balance between new life and old. The tradition of the bonfires represents the birth of new life through hazardous winter, and a prayer for a fruitful harvest. Livestock were often sacrificed and purification rituals were undertaken, including the eating of cakes toasted on the fire. Some of these practices were occasionally adapted by blood magic or used in courtship rituals, but such rituals are considered to be a form of Dark magic and are therefore discouraged._

Hermione slammed the book shut, eliciting a shriek from one of the dark restricted books on the shelf nearby.

"Shut it!" she cried, hitting the offending tome with a stunner. Ordinarily she would never have hexed a book, but her vision was hazed with a red mist of rage. Her mind flipped through the series of events of Beltane, recalling the cake. The blood healing. That kiss. Shit.

She didn't bother saying goodbye to Minerva, nor putting away the books. She was focused on one thing and one thing only: Malfoy.


	7. A Conflagration

**My reviewers are the best! Seriously, I LOVE the thoughtful comments from you all-it is fantastic to get such fantastically detailed feedback. Yes, I had to get Snape in there. I ship Hermione/Snape as well, but no crazy resurrection plots here. Just a nod to my favorite Potions Master, one chemist to another. I was going to make you wait until tomorrow for this but it's lab day and I just can't WAIT to see what you think!**

* * *

The crack of disapparation at the gates provided Lucius with much relief. She could have disapparated directly to the foyer, but her choice of destination was a perfect read of her mood. She must have found a reference to the Beltane ritual. Astoria was in the library with him to select a book while Draco was bathing Scorpius. Lucius looked over at his daughter-in-law and said quite brusquely, "Get out."

Astoria did not have to be told twice, the raised voice of Hermione Granger at the door informing her instantly of the situation. Lucius heard his chief house elf, Twigs, telling Hermione that the master was in his library, and in no short order she was at the door, a "_Petrificus Totalus_!" flying from her lips before she'd even crossed the threshold. Lucius had his wand out in a flash and he blocked her and sent a stunner, which she blocked effortlessly.

"You used a courtship ritual on me!" She fired a jinx and hex in quick succession, and Lucius parried both and fired his own hex, whirling to avoid the spells she was sending, her chest heaving with the magnitude of her anger.

"I'm disappointed, Hermione," Lucius began, then landed a jelly legs jinx for a brief second before she threw it off, her feint and double throw of two stunners a really good piece of dueling, he admitted as he was thrown back for an equal measure of time before he also threw off her curse. "I thought you'd deduce it much quicker, witch."

"Damn you to hell, Lucius Malfoy," she hissed, grazing him with a burn jinx, the sting on his shoulder a reminder to be on his toes with this witch. It annoyed him and his eyes narrowed. She was due for a lesson, and he knew just the wizard to give it to her.

"I've already been, dear. It's called Azkaban, and I was too much for even that hell, and they had to let me out," he retorted as he paced left, firing a rapid series of hexes, jinxes, and curses that sent Hermione behind a piece of furniture and set a section of books on fire. When she popped back up she nearly got him again with a full-fledged dark curse, and he smiled sardonically as a shelf of books was shredded into confetti. "Getting mad, are we, Granger?"

She had moved past his desk and was in front of the double French doors to the patio now, inspiring a nasty idea. He fired past her deliberately, inciting a shriek of wind that came rushing through the doors and caused her to be distracted for a split second. In a childish act, he got her full on with the slug burping curse, and watched as she vomited a series of slugs. He laughed out loud until she tossed a wordless _Expulso_ at the wingchair in front of him, throwing him into one of the bookcases with such force that two of the shelves split, spilling books to the floor and causing him to wince from the twinge in his back as he struggled back to his feet. Hermione was still burping slugs, but she cast the Bogey curse on _herself _and then used the counter-curse to remove all the effects.

"That was brilliant," Lucius admitted, drawing her attention back to him.

Hermione distracted his wand with three jinxes and tried to cast the hair loss curse. "_Calv_—"

Lucius hit her straight in the mouth with the babbling curse. "No, no, none of that please."

Hermione grazed him with a wordless _Petrificus Totalus Tria_. That was good, if he hadn't dodged right on the third step she would have gotten him fully with that one. It took him two seconds to restore feeling to his left arm, rotating it in the shoulder joint as they continued trading stinging hexes and stunners in between their more inventive efforts. The room was becoming thoroughly wrecked, but neither one of them was going to retreat. Indeed, they had been advancing closer and closer to one another, the fiery hot passion of their mutual rage rendering them incapable of maintaining a cool and collected distance from their opponent. She finally broke free of her babbling, her eyes flashing magnificently in her fury.

"Arrogant arse! I'll break your ritual! I'll report you to the Ministry!"

"I'll teach you exactly what you've been missing, Mudblood," Lucius taunted. "No amount of books will replace the knowledge of being born to this world, of knowing its every custom inside and out." He landed a stinging hex right on her inner thigh, causing her to gasp in pain and annoyance. "And then we can discuss what I will teach you in the bedroom!"

His eyes flashed sensually with that statement and Hermione shrieked in outrage. "You will never touch me, you Pureblood son of a cold-hearted bitch!"

They were only three feet away from each other now, and Lucius pulled her tightly to him by the waist, holding his wand to her face as she mirrored his action with her own wand. "I'm touching you now, Hermione." His grey eyes were silver with passionate emotion, and Hermione's were full of conflicting emotions. Ginny was right—she wanted him.

"Yes."

It was permission and they both knew it. Their mouths met in a rehash of their previous kiss. This time, however, Lucius was not going to let the matter drop. He wanted her to feel everything he could give her. Hermione's wand clattered to the floor when she thrust her hands into his hair, holding onto his head and the back of his neck while Lucius resheathed his own up his sleeve, a lifesaving habit, before caressing her back. Their tongues met greedily, each absorbing the taste of the other, learning the intricacies of each other's mouths and finding the right pressure for their lips, the most pleasant angles. Hermione gasped when his right hand wandered down to caress the firm globe of her ass, sending a spear of heat right to her core. Lucius used the opportunity to murmur a mouth freshening charm, quirking his eyebrow at Hermione's flush of embarrassment.

"Slugs, pet. Not terribly tasty."

Her expression was heated but unsure, and Lucius dove back in again, eliciting a satisfying series of moans in short order as he demonstrated the considerable pleasures to be brought about by a talented tongue and equally talented pair of hands. He stroked and teased, his fingers running along the edge of her breasts while his tongue did deliciously wicked things to her ear and neck.

Hermione was no less active, her fingers loosening the collar of his shirt and undoing the first few buttons as she nuzzled his jaw and laid open-mouthed, wet kisses on his throat. His cologne was heated from their tussle, the scent tickling her nostrils while the feeling of his five o'clock shadow against her cheek did strange things to her insides and drove her to a wantonness she had never experienced in her sparse dating life. There was something to be said for an experienced man, his hands coming around surely to the buttons of her blouse as he lowered her onto the sofa by the fireplace.

"Master! Master!" A house elf had popped in, and Lucius growled, "Go punish yourself!" before Hermione could even register the elf's presence. He flicked his thumb expertly over her nipple and Hermione arched to claim his mouth hotly as her hands pulled his shirt up, her fingers seeking skin, the temporary disruption entirely forgotten by both of them. Lucius was pondering whether to vanish or unfasten her bra when they both heard Draco's voice.

"What the hell is going on here? _Aguamente_!"

Reality returned with the sizzle of the cold water that Draco conjured against the flames of the books that were burning in three places around the room. Hermione was mortified while Lucius was entirely unrepentant. He would have happily taken the witch right there were it not for the pesky problem of his house trying to burn down. She scrambled to sit up, Lucius doing the gentlemanly thing and taking her hand to pull her to a seating position. He pretended to be ignorant of her fumbling with the buttons of her blouse while he addressed his attention to his son.

"Granger. Father. Why am I not surprised?" Draco's expression was sardonically amused, his arms folded across his chest, wand dangling from his wand hand. "A bit too occupied to notice a little thing like a fire, hmm?"

"Miss Granger dropped in to discuss the details of our betrothal," Lucius said, aware that Hermione was entirely at sea over what had just occurred. He smoothly took her hand in his own and squeezed gently, a gesture made reassuring by the lightness of the pressure he exerted.

"I'll bet," Draco drawled, his eyes lazily sweeping around the room. "A destructive method of communication."

"Mind your own business!" Lucius snarled, and Draco grinned and bowed.

"As you like. Just don't go setting any more fires that require wizarding magic to put out, please?"

With that salvo Draco left the room, leaving a very flustered Hermione and a very calculating Lucius. Her eyes traveled the room, taking in the shredded pages and smoldering lumps of what used to be books.

"Oh my God." Hermione's voice was quietly remorseful.

Lucius realized that the destruction of the books would bother her, so he tried to reassure her.

"It's nothing. I keep all of the irreplaceable books under protection charms. Anything that has been destroyed can be easily replaced."

"That's not the point," Hermione said, then fell silent. It was a good sign that she left her hand in his own, a tacit truce. They sat in silence for a few minutes, the smell of smoke now fully actualized by their conscious minds.

"Would you like to take a stroll through the gardens so we can discuss this?" Lucius asked, his thumb softly circling the smooth flesh on the back of her hand.

She cleared her throat and said, "Yes, please," wordlessly _Accio_ing her wand.

Lucius helped her to her feet, watching as she tucked the ends of her blouse back into her skirt. He opted to leave his shirt collar open, even if it did mean she could see his prison number tattoo from Azkaban. It's not like she didn't know that he'd been there, and he was not going to tread lightly around the topic. He held his arm out for her, silently challenging her not to accept it. She hesitated, then put her arm in his, which was quite satisfying. He placed his other hand on top of her forearm and drew her out through the French doors. The moon was rising and the sun had set, the magical blossoms of the night-blooming plants starting to open.

"I'm meeting Neville for coffee on Thursday."

Hermione didn't know exactly what to say after the torrid climax of their impromptu duel, but that probably wasn't the best lead. Lucius stopped and tightened his grip on her hand, slowly turning so they were face to face. Hermione observed the muscles working in his jaw, and his eyes were cool and possessive as they raked her face.

"And what exactly are you planning to discuss?" Lucius refrained from adding, '_with that buffoon_', a masterful exercise in self-control.

Hermione could only guess at his thoughts as his face remained largely impassive, but she knew he was not best pleased with that announcement. "I wanted to talk to him about his matches, to find out how he felt about everything. He is my friend, Lucius."

"But he will not be your husband," Lucius said calmly—too calmly. Hermione was learning rapidly that if she wanted to know what Lucius Malfoy was really thinking, she had to pay close attention to his expressive eyes. Cool and mercurial, yes, but the flashes of emotion told their own story. She tamped down her own irritation, because he was being insufferably high-handed, and that is exactly what she told him.

"You are attempting to manage me, Lucius, and I believe I might have communicated to you that I don't like that." She deliberately brushed a bit of soot from his shoulder, pressing a bit too hard in doing so right where she had gotten him with the burning jinx earlier. He winced and his eyes narrowed briefly, then amusement flickered into them. He was secretly impressed by the Slytherin-esque move. He cocked his head to the side as if studying her, then drew her forward again on a leisurely amble through the garden. He said nothing for several minutes, and Hermione was getting nervous. Why didn't he say something?

Finally, he spoke. "Draco gave me to understand that your friend Weasley is quite a good chess player. Tell me, Hermione, do you play?"

Whatever she had been expecting him to say, it wasn't that. Hermione was confused by the question. She snuck a peek at his profile for a clue, but she couldn't see a reason not to answer truthfully.

"Yes, I do, but I am not particularly good at it." She had never seen a reason to disavow her known weaknesses, and didn't intend to start now.

Lucius stopped and turned to look at her, maintaining ownership of her arm on his own. "And why do you suppose that is?"

She could tell that there was a purpose to this, but she was not in the mood for games. "Ron accused me of being incapable of planning more than a few moves ahead. He said it was my downfall, because I couldn't focus on more than the immediate problem."

She stopped and removed her hand from his arm. Lucius allowed it because he could tell that she was genuinely torn by the events of the evening.

"Lucius, please. I'm not in the mood for this. What kind of courtship ritual was that on Beltane? I really need to know. Please."

The corner of Lucius' mouth quirked upward slightly, and his eyes warmed imperceptibly. "Then I would say that your friend knows you very well. I, on the other hand, am an excellent chess player. I am always playing toward the endgame. In this case, I'd say you are quite firmly in check, Hermione—and the next move, regardless of what you do, will be mate. In every sense of the word." Lucius drew his finger slowly down her arm, then fixed her with a frank gaze. "I recommend you make your status clear to your friends, and soon my dear. I don't take well to others infringing on what belongs to me."

Predictably her eyes flashed with anger and her jaw clenched with irritation. "I belong to no one but myself—now, and even when I am forced to marry. Believe me when I say that any attempt to behave otherwise will result in more harm to your person than a simple jinx!"

She turned to flounce away, but was stopped by his strong hand on her arm. She turned back to fling an angry command to remove his hand, but the expression on his face stopped her. The halt to her forward momentum was enough to let him drop his hand from her arm.

"Have you added any additional wards to your flat since my visit?" He was deadly serious now, all business as he did up the buttons of his collar, then smoothly put his hair back in a queue. He looked utterly delectable.

"No. I restored them, but frankly I…I wasn't afraid of you." Hermione blushed and looked away from him, an action that Lucius found strangely endearing. He cupped her cheek and turned her face back to him, running his thumb over her lower lip, his eyes fixed on hers.

"I'm glad to hear it." His hand fell to take hers. "I'm going to accompany you home and cast a few additional charms. Would you mind side-along?" He smoothly drew her into his embrace, and Hermione's irritation melted away. There was something extremely engrossing about a protective Lucius.

"No." Hermione closed her eyes and focused her attention on her flat, whisking them both into the whirl of nothingness.


	8. Midnight Madness

**This is why I ask for reviews, and I so appreciate them! A reviewer caught a hint of something slipping into my writing, as my original posted version of chapter 7, A Conflagration, suggested that Hermione did not want Lucius to kiss her, and that is definitely not what I wanted. I read a great article recently on what it means when people talk about a 'rape culture' in the US, and the author made the point that women are too often portrayed as and expected to be passive when it comes to consent-a woman should say "no" instead of the expectation being that a woman will say "yes". And there I went along with that cultural norm, not even thinking. What a wake up call! So, I want to say THANK YOU SO MUCH to the anonymous reviewer who caught that and called it out. It is a hard line to walk with Lucius, because he is using underhanded means with the ritual, and he's not above playing dirty. At his heart, though, Lucius ****_is_**** a gentleman, and Hermione ****_is_**** willing. I have revised that chapter and hope that you go back and see what I mean. It's just a few sentences, but it does give it a different flavor, I think. Persuasion is quite a different thing to coercion-and I hope you great readers call me again if I inadvertently cross that line. Thank you!**

* * *

Hermione was not expecting the flash of a curse when they popped into her living room, but Lucius reacted instantly from habit and experience. He threw a shield charm around them both and fired back at the assailant, making some type of contact from the muffled grunt.

"Lumos!" Hermione's wand lit up, but not the lights in the room, costing another precious few seconds as Lucius traded spells with the unseen attacker. Hermione cast the lumos miasma charm, causing a pale light to suffuse through the air, then threw her own curses at the lanky wizard who was clearly well versed in dark magic. Lucius threw her out of the path of a blistering hex and shifted his wand to his left hand, throwing two spells in quick succession.

"_Protego_! _Mimblewimble_!"

"_Locomotor mortis_!" Hermione threw her own curse underneath Lucius' arm, simultaneously irritated and pleased by Lucius' concern for her safety.

Both Lucius' and Hermione's spells hit the man, and he dropped like a stone.

"_Petrificus Totalus_," Lucius hissed, further incapacitating the wizard, then stunning him for good measure. Hermione disarmed the man and put the wand down quickly. It felt squicky, the magic nasty. Lucius looked up at her after a cursory examination of the unconscious wizard.

"Call the Aurors," he said grimly. "Now!"

Hermione was thankful that Ron was one of the Aurors who responded to the call to her flat. Lucius had cast _Priori incantatum_ on the wand himself, and Hermione had not recognized half of the charms. Lucius apparently knew many of them, however, and he cursed violently under his breath before throwing the wand down on her coffee table with disgust and pacing near the still breathing body until the Aurors' arrival was announced by the multiple cracks outside her door.

"Hermione! What's going on?" Ron said as the other three Aurors rushed into her flat, wands at the ready.

He stepped inside with her and saw Lucius Malfoy, who said, "This assailant fired a curse at Miss Granger and myself when we Apparated into her living room. We exchanged curses and together we stunned him and disarmed him."

The Aurors were always extra careful around a Malfoy, simply because they had so much pull at the Ministry. Therefore they did not immediately claim Lucius' or Hermione's wands for testing, but instead examined the unconscious wizard's wand. Severt muttered darkly at the spells being reeled off while Thompson and Percivel levitated the wizard, who groaned as he began to come out of the last stunner that Lucius had sent.

"He won't make much sense for a while," Lucius said darkly as the two Aurors removed the man from the flat, prepared to Disapparate directly to the Ministry holding facilities. They nodded and vanished soundlessly, one of the supposedly private privileges of an Auror, but which was frequently employed by many others.

"Tell me what happened, please," Ron said as Severt cast a recording spell, then held out his hand for Hermione's wand.

"Only the last ten spells, if you please," Lucius demanded imperiously, and Ron exchanged a look with Severt, who nodded. Leaving his partner to check the prior spells, Ron listened as first Lucius and then Hermione explained the circumstances of the attack and their subsequent defenses. Lucius wordlessly surrendered his wand to Severt's interrogation, a lifted eyebrow all that was sufficient to remind the wizard of the spell limit.

"Have you ever seen him before?" Ron posed the question first to Hermione, then Malfoy. According to Ginny, this was going to be Hermione's husband in short order, alternative match to Neville or not. Seeing how possessive the elder Malfoy was of Hermione, Ron could well believe it. He had thought Ginny was ridiculous in her assertion that Hermione would choose Malfoy, but she had just Apparated him into her flat—hardly something she would do if she weren't comfortable with him.

A thought occurred to him and he stood and drew Hermione aside. "Excuse us for a few minutes," he said, then pulled her into the kitchen, casting a _Muffliato_.

"Hermione, are you all right?" Ron was less interested in her verbal answer than in her body language. Everything about her screamed 'upset', although she was trying to hide it. She actually seemed to care about that prat, because she was casting worried glances toward the couch where Malfoy was calmly answering Severt's questions. In fact, she looked just like she did whenever they got past some terrible scrape or mission...and that relieved him greatly.

"Am I all right? I just apparated into my own living room and someone tried to kill me. If Lucius hadn't insisted on coming here with me to add wards, I don't know if would have reacted fast enough! I'm _upset_, Ron! I can't even go to my own home without some lunatic with a grudge lying in wait for me! How am I going to sleep tonight?"

"Right, of course, Hermione. Let's go back now." Ron heaved a mental sigh of relief as he turned his friend gently back toward the other room. Whatever else was going on, she was not under the Imperius, of that he was certain.

He took over the questions again as she sat down right next to Lucius. Both had asserted they did not know him, and given the circumstances, Ron had no reason to believe Malfoy was lying. He assumed Severt had cast the calming spell, a useful little trick up an Auror's sleeve that Malfoy probably already knew about but clearly wasn't worried about either. There were ways to counter it, but they could usually tell when they had been used, and Severt was one of the best at body language cues.

"Any idea why he might have wanted to harm you?"

"Other than the fact that she's turned the entire wizarding world on its head?" Lucius snarled. "Can't you do better than that?"

"Yeah, mate, I can. Perhaps you might know a bit more, eh? Word has been flying around the Ministry about the requests coming from other countries for Hermione's tests. Who would be the most well placed to divert those requests, or subvert them to their own purposes?"

"Pleased to find you have slightly more grey matter underneath that ginger cap than some," Lucius muttered. "Yes, Weasley, there are several wizards who might fit that criteria, including myself, given my business interests outside of the Ministry. However, I think you will find that the personal nature of the stakes in my case should direct your attention elsewhere."

"I'd already figured that one out, mate. Can't you give me a name? The sooner we get to the bottom of this, the safer she'll be."

Lucius' jaw was tight and with a sudden flash of insight Hermione realized that the only time he interacted with the MLE at this level was when they were either accusing him of malfeasance or trying to worm information out of him.

"Drop it, Ron. Please. If he knew he'd have already brought it to your attention." She took Lucius' hand and inhaled sharply. It was akin to a public acknowledgement of their betrothal, and she knew Lucius regarded it as such when his eyes flashed to meet hers with a hot flare of approval.

Ron shook his head, then stood up and nodded to Severt. "I hope you know what you're doing, Hermione."

"Don't I always?" Hermione said with a half-smile, standing in tandem with Lucius and pretending more confidence than she felt about the matter. "Be sure to ask Lavender if she approves of my choice."

"I don't think there's any question you'll be informed one way or another." Ron glanced at his partner, who was waiting without comment. He reckoned Underwood had paired them pretty well, given how little Severt liked to talk. "You'll both get a copy of our report," he said, then kissed Hermione on the cheek and let himself and his partner out of the flat.

The sudden silence was uncomfortable on one level, but eerily soothing on another. Gathering her Gryffindor courage, Hermione turned to face Lucius, who was regarding her warmly.

She had still managed to surprise him. There was only one acceptable response.

"Witch." A wealth of meaning was infused in that one word, then he crushed her to him and claimed her mouth for an aching, thorough kiss that set fire to his blood and hers, the magic pressed on them by the ritual intensifying their feelings to a level that excluded everything else.

He broke the kiss, then cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking her skin gently. "My witch."

His silver eyes held her brown ones, coolly amused, and Hermione tapped her fingers lightly on his chest and said, "We really must discuss this Neanderthal tendency of yours. I sincerely hope it is merely the affectation of habit and not how you really think of me."

"Such a quick learner." He kissed her again briefly and stepped back. "Time for those protection charms, pet."

She stood back to watch. Lucius closed his eyes and took a deep breath to prepare himself, then conjured the Fidelius charm, his wand waving elegantly in the oscillations required. Hermione felt the charm take hold, then he walked over to her, the whisper of her address in her ear almost a caress.

"Thank you," she whispered in reply, placing a kiss on his jaw near his ear. She was not quite accomplished enough in her wandwork to cast the Fidelius herself, although Filius told her she was quite close. She had had to sacrifice furthering her charms studies when she began the genetics project, but Filius was kind enough to meet her occasionally to offer pointers. She had hoped to not need it anytime soon, quite frankly, so it hadn't seemed a pressing matter.

"What about my friends?" she asked. Since Lucius had made himself the Secret Keeper, Harry, Ginny, and the rest of her friends would not be able to Apparate to her flat any longer.

"I'll take care of that," he promised. He stopped her before she could kiss him again.

"I'm not finished," he growled lightly, stepping back again before pointing his wand skyward and beginning the complex incantations required for the _Protego Horribilis_. Hermione was shocked that he would cast such a spell, but since she had not seen it cast before, she was transfixed as his voice carefully danced through the spell, his pronunciation of the mixed Latin and what sounded like proto-Celtic tongues absolutely perfect. A rush of wind signified the spell taking hold, and Lucius lowered his wand and stared at her again.

"I wish you would come stay at the Manor. The wards are quite old and powerful. I would be much happier if you would make that choice."

Hermione knew it was quite something for Lucius Malfoy to offer such an olive branch. "I'm beginning to appreciate just how seriously you take your responsibilities, but as of right now, I want to remain in my own space."

Lucius crossed to her in two steps and pulled her close. "If I took you right here, right now, that would be enough for us to be married in the eyes of the Ministry. Such is the power of the Beltane rite, Hermione. Against my better _judgement_," Hermione snorted to herself and thought rather it was against his _training_, "I will refrain from doing so, as I would wish our first time to be in surroundings more conducive to many subsequent repetitions without a care for any external concerns. But only today, witch. If you have anyone you want present at our bonding ceremony, send the owls now, dear, because tomorrow you are in my bed and you will not be leaving it."

Hermione felt a flustering combination of desire, indignation, and shock warring in her mind. "A week," she said, blindly negotiating as thoughts of a wedding! Moving! Sex with Lucius…_Merlin_, assaulted her brain. Lucius flicked his eyes to the clock, which showed that it was just past midnight.

"Tomorrow," Lucius countered in clipped tones. "That's final."

She read the steely intent in his eyes and felt weak in the knees. "It's too soon…" she was fumbling now, and Lucius was done.

"Hermione, had I not come home with you tonight, you could have been incapacitated or killed. I am done seeing you stumble through the rippling effects from your research, and I _know_ this is only the start of it. You _need_ me, period. Bonding will provide far more benefits of which you are aware, and some benefits of which you are presently ignorant. I meant it when I said I would teach you. And, by god, you will learn…starting tomorrow."

With a bow, Lucius disapparated on the spot.


	9. Making Sense of It All

**Again, so many fabulous reviews! Thank you, thank you! A nod to zeeksmom for the references to Colbert & Gable in "It Happened One Night" and Grant/Hepburn in "Bringing Up Baby"-wow what a fabulous compliment! I am honored to be compared to such sublime comedies. :) **

**We are almost to the end of everything I've written already, so posts are going to be slower. I've been on that euphoric first rush of a story, but I have to catch up on sleep sometime and do all the things in real life I've put off, like laundry and yardwork, etc. Just warning you it is coming. In a similar vein this is it, only one chapter today. I suppose a gentle slowdown is better, really. It might not be quite as polished as I'd like but that's the lack of sleep for you-nothing serious enough to warrant withholding it from you however. We will be seeing that coffee date next time, and what about that wedding? Stay tuned!**

* * *

Hermione found it difficult to settle after Lucius left. There was no denying that he was serious about marrying immediately, but Hermione also wanted the full story about these attacks. The attack by Dolohov could have been a once-off, but an assailant lying in wait meant that something more was going on. She didn't know how successful she would be at getting Lucius to tell her everything, either. He was naturally reticent, and when she added in his background he would be unlikely to cave to her demands, justifying it to himself as protecting her. She would have to think about how best to convince him to tell her everything, but she could hardly sit on her hands either. That left her with the prospect of appealing to Kingsley Shacklebolt directly, and asking Ron if they had turned up anything. It was a decidedly unappealing prospect, as the chances of obtaining useful information were spotty at best, no matter where she looked.

Then there was the marriage that Lucius demanded would happen now. Hermione felt vaguely panicked about the whole thing. It was certainly NOT her idea of how she would be getting married. She would have preferred time to get to know him better, to avoid the blow-ups they seemed to have over every little thing. Hermione was pacing nervously, and wished she could talk to Ginny about it. Her friend always knew what to say about men, her advice about relationships more intuitive than Hermione's own feel for them. Maybe it came from the fact that she had six brothers, but she certainly knew how men ticked.

She looked at the clock—almost 1 AM. She was never going to sleep like this, her mind fluxing furiously through multiple channels, unable to concentrate on any one thing but not able to set any aside either. It was almost a relief when Ginny's horse galloped into the room, mouthing, "Ron just left here. I want to talk to you—come and get me, please."

* * *

"It's the middle of the night," Hermione protested weakly, but Ginny, clothed in her bathrobe, was ready to go as soon as she appeared on the front doorstep, opening the door without a word. Hermione was too tired to muffle the crack of her arrival, but offending Harry and Gin's neighbors was the last thing on her mind.

"That's irrelevant. Harry is perfectly capable of dealing with two sleeping children, and you're not going to lie to me and tell me you were all cozied up in bed asleep after that, are you?"

"Just go Hermione. I'll talk to Malfoy tomorrow," Harry called out sleepily from down the hall. "Doubt he'll let it rest anyhow."

"Fine. Hold on, Ginny." Hermione took Ginny's arm and brought them both back to her flat. It was an unpleasant echo of her arrival with Lucius hours before, and she couldn't help but let her eyes flick to the corner where the man had been, even though all the lights were on and Lucius had added the extra protections.

Ginny didn't miss the shiver and wasted no time in dragging Hermione to the couch. "Tell me what happened. Last we heard you were at Hogwarts—I assume you found a courtship ritual of some type."

Hermione's brief laugh had a slightly hysterical edge to it, and she got out, "I suppose you could say that," before she was convulsing in laughter over the whole chain of events, the whole sorry sordid lot, the ridiculous and magnificent and humbling and frightening mess until before she realized it she was crying onto Ginny's shoulder while her friend hugged her and soothed her.

"Oh, Hermione. Let it all out," Ginny murmured, waiting until her friend's sobs had slowed down and she was merely hiccoughing through her tears. Finally Hermione drew back and Ginny assessed her friend with an honest eye.

"You look terrible, Hermione."

Hermione laughed and blew her nose with the tissue that Ginny had wordlessly summoned while she waited patiently for Hermione to pull herself together.

"I'm engaged to Lucius," Hermione said after she dabbed at a few more tears with more tissues from the box.

"I assumed," Ginny said drily. "How did that come about?"

"He cast some sort of Beltane courting ritual on me Friday. We shared a Beltane cake at work—"

"You didn't tell me that—" Gin's raised eyebrow said it all.

"—and then there was the…" Hermione stopped as the blue line on her wrist flashed, which did not escape Ginny's eagle eye, "—and then when he kissed me at Malfoy Manor the other day, I felt myself spontaneously shed some magic, and I saw a white flash. I suppose that must have been the completion of the ritual…I'm not very sure, Lucius has been very close-mouthed about the whole thing. He's really insufferably high-handed, I know, it's not really a surprise, right? But he's also defended me twice from these attacks and for a few weeks he's been obviously pleasant at work, well as pleasant as a Malfoy ever gets toward me, anyhow…"

"Hermione, you're babbling. Stop talking for a second, please." Hermione stopped talking and looked at her best friend. Ginny was obviously tired, it being the middle of the night, but her mind was as active as ever and she regarded her with an affectionate face. "You're in danger of falling in love with the prat. Frankly, it sounds to me like he's led you a merry chase, and you didn't even know you were playing."

A hint of color crept up her neck and Ginny knew she was right. "Get off your high horse, Hermione Granger. I played enough Quidditch to recognize a game when I see one, and I suspect Lucius has been pursuing you for a good while without you even being aware of it."

Hermione sighed and folded one leg under her bum, a familiar stance from evenings spent at school or the Burrow for a good coze. "Maybe you're right. I don't know anything anymore—I was never very good at these types of flirtations, and heaven knows Lucius is a master. And now that someone was here in my flat—Lucius is insisting we marry immediately."

Ginny perked up at this bit of news. Ron hadn't said anything about that, and she said so. "Sorry, come again? You've gone from engaged to getting married in the span of one evening? Exactly when is 'immediately'?"

"Well Ron wouldn't know, would he? I was only TOLD that it was going to happen tomorrow by Lucius, without so much as a by your leave before he cracked away after casting the Fidelius charm and the _Protego Horriblis_ here."

"Tomorrow? What, as in later today?" Ginny was incredulous, and leaned forward on the couch.

"Well it was after midnight so I don't know whether he meant today, Wednesday, or tomorrow, which would be Thursday. Oh, I've just realized—I'm supposed to have coffee with Neville tomorrow to discuss our match!" Hermione bit her lip and thrust her jaw slightly askew in a picture of fussing.

"Don't tell me you're actually thinking of going along with that?" Ginny's tone was slightly disapproving, and Hermione felt forced to defend Lucius' thinking.

"Well you can't blame him, can you? Every time the man turns around there is someone else prepared to hex me into oblivion—all he wants is to make sure I'm going to be safe, and from his perspective that means living at Malfoy Manor, with him as my husband!" Ginny's lips thinned and Hermione knew she was trying hard not to smirk.

"Don't you dare laugh at me Ginevra Potter! This isn't funny," Hermione said. Ginny grabbed her hands, which had started gesticulating, and pressed them down onto her lap. It was something that Hermione had tried hard to avoid after being teased about it during first year, but it always came to the fore when she was tired or overly emotional.

"Hermione, I love you. I'm going to give you some Dreamless Sleep and put you to bed, and tomorrow I am going to come back with Lavender and we are going to have a girls' day in. You can tell both of us all about Malfoy, as a reward to Lavender and myself for keeping our prats of husbands in line while you've been dancing to Luscious Lucius' tune. And by then I don't doubt you and your fiancé will have made the timing of your wedding abundantly clear, and we will plan that as well."

Hermione stared at Ginny and blurted out the first thing that came into her head. "But you haven't even asked about the attack, Gin." She had tried to say 'attacks' but the 's' wouldn't come out of her mouth, and she knew she had to ask Lucius to release her from the oath about the attack in Hogsmeade woods.

Ginny's mouth cracked into a wry smile. "After you helped take down the darkest wizard of all time, I don't think it's anything you can't handle. I think your bigger problem is going to be how to handle your husband!"

* * *

"Lucius, Fabian—Kingsley wants to see us now," Yaxley's head had popped into Underwood's office just after the memo arrived on Fabian's desk.

"Good news travels with great speed," Fabian muttered, then stood swiftly. "Let's go then. Hate to miss a good shit storm."

"Pity I forgot my repelling umbrella," Lucius said drily, eliciting a chuckle from Yaxley but none from Underwood. The man still didn't like him, which was fine, but at least he was prepared to overlook personal differences of opinion given the deteriorating situation regarding the Magical Research division's chief researcher. They rode in silence up to the Minister's office, and were ushered swiftly in to the plush room where Kingsley was waiting behind the broad desk, every inch the authoritative, no-nonsense man of wide reputation.

"What is behind these attacks on Hermione Granger?" Kingsley asked without preamble.

"I'd probably have more to say about that if Malfoy had shared a pertinent piece of information prior to this morning," Fabian complained, throwing Lucius under the oncoming train. He was fully prepared for such an eventuality, however, and turned to Yaxley.

"Calvin, you'll recall our conversations regarding the disruptions in the streets over the news of the mandatory testing. Perhaps you could enlighten Kingsley and Fabian as to our predictions of how this would go?"

"Of course, Lucius." Yaxley turned his attention to Kingsley, not as concerned about Underwood since the man technically reported to him. "Lucius, and others who share our mixed past, were naturally quite attentive to the results of Miss Granger's work. It is no secret that the hostility and racism that made the dark lord's rise possible are still lurking in the fabric of our society, and only time will suffice to clear its effects. Thus, when there were murmurs of retribution against the 'uppity Mudblood', Lucius and myself, as well as others, took it upon ourselves to keep a close ear to the ground for any movement toward an actual attack on Miss Granger."

"Since Miss Granger reports to me, I made it a personal mission of mine to be apprised of her whereabouts, and even tested the wards on her home to determine how vulnerable Miss Granger may be. Regardless of the rumors to the contrary, I do not make it a habit of dueling my employees in the workplace." Lucius sniffed and began to continue.

"Last week as Miss Granger was approaching Hogsmeade, she was attacked by Antonin Dolohov and three other assailants, whom I did not recognize. I had followed Miss Granger as it was widely known in the office that she was to meet her friends and at what time, and together we were able to beat off her attackers."

"And why was the Auror Department not informed of this?" Kingsley asked in his deep baritone, the same question that Underwood had just vouched in his own office before Yaxley interrupted them.

"It was quite clear that someone within my division was responsible for leaking the information. In order to preserve that link, I swore Miss Granger to silence on the matter, and further resolved to keep a very close eye on her. Yaxley has been attempting to trace the leak from my division, and I have been keeping track of her whereabouts since then, as Minerva McGonagall and Harry Potter can attest."

"And this is before you were matched to her?" Kingsley asked, reserving his own opinion about the matter. He was a masterful poker player, and his face remained impassive throughout. It was one of the reasons he was so good at his job.

"Yes. I admit that I was surprised by that information when I received it," Kingsley noted that Malfoy did not say when that was, "Given what I know of the probabilities, I was aware that even if Miss Granger received other matches, she would not find those avenues to be open to her. I assure you that since we have recently reached an understanding, she will shortly be under my personal protection as my wife. For the time being, I have strengthened the wards on her home and met with Fabian this morning to seek protection for her when she is out in public and I cannot be present." _Which will be never, if I have anything to say about it_, Lucius thought to himself.

Yaxley and Underwood were surprised by Lucius' announcement of his engagement, as the current betting pools making the rounds at the Ministry had said that she would take months to come around, and only perhaps after the visit of an Unspeakable. Kingsley did not seem surprised at all, which Lucius noted with suspicion.

"When is the happy occasion?" Kingsley asked, a slight twinkle in his eye.

"Tomorrow, if you must know," Lucius answered gruffly, and that managed to shock all three of them.

"Why the rush?" Underwood asked sourly, while Kingsley sat back in his chair and crossed his fingers in front of him.

"I say, Lucius, this could be quite valuable for the MLE. If we publicized the wedding, we could go a long way toward showing the community that these arranged marriages aren't quite so distasteful as they might think." Yaxley's eyes were bright, and Lucius knew he had to shut down this train of thought quite quickly.

"I don't believe that publicity is what is called for given that my fiancée has suffered two attacks on her person purely as a result of being the public face of the Ministry's research into the Squib problem." Lucius' voice was arctic, ridicule practically dripping from his tongue.

Kingsley had sat forward in his chair again and his eyes were calculating—a bad sign, in Lucius' experiences. "Yes, I think Calvin might be onto something. Not only would the Ministry be able to show the benefits of letting go of past concerns—"

_You mean like the fact that she was tortured in my own home by a fellow Death Eater and she's still willing to marry me?_, Lucius thought to himself sarcastically, his expression impassive—

"—but you would also be sending a very clear signal to those who are intent on harming Hermione that she has powerful allies within the magical community, including those who might otherwise be presumed to sympathize with their feelings."

Lucius knew this was the out he needed and he took it unhesitatingly. "But then those same displays will also convince those who know more about what is going to refrain from confiding in me in any way. If I am truly to be of service to my wife in this matter, they must be allowed to draw their own conclusions from such a hasty marriage."

"One would assume that marrying her so quickly would perhaps make some suspicious of your motives," Kingsley observed shrewdly.

"I can think of any number of reasons why I might wed her so precipitously but still maintain, _ties_, shall we say, to those who might share pertinent information." Lucius would not go further than that, and he could see that Kingsley knew it.

"Very well."

"I'd still like to make something of this, Lucius. Please, give me a bit of a break—the public are still writhing from the pain of so many of these matches, if they saw some pleasantness it could go a long way toward alleviating the protests and scuffles that keep breaking out." Calvin was pleading, but Lucius had had enough.

"I will _not_ put my wife under the microscope of the public eye when she is already suffering from the burden of being responsible for the detection of this problem, as well as indirectly responsible for the implementation of its solution. She is continuing her research into the regulation of the gene—having press witches and wizards following her everywhere would make her life even more hellish than it already is."

Kingsley said nothing, was just studying him, while Underwood looked uncomfortable. Yaxley threw his hands up and said, "Fine, fine! Maybe when she's pregnant you'll be more willing to help me out a bit."

Lucius was not going to comment on the likelihood of impending parenthood in front of anyone other than Hermione, and kept his face impassive. Silence reigned for a brief minute, then Kingsley turned his attention to Underwood.

"What have you learned from the prisoner?"

The rest of the meeting passed quickly. The wizard had been a middling dueler but he was resistant to Veritaserum, which meant they were contemplating Legilimency. Lucius would have volunteered himself but they wouldn't have trusted his results anyway, so it wasn't worth even offering. Besides, he had enough on his plate as it was. He planned to take a little trip to Paris soon, and hopefully it would bear more fruit than any half-hearted cursing they could inflict on that pathetic excuse for a wizard currently in holding cell 402B.

"A word, Malfoy," Kingsley said as the other men exited his office. Lucius mentally steeled himself and sat back down on the chair he had temporarily vacated, a pleasant enough expression on his face. It was really too much to hope that Kingsley Shacklebolt, former member of the Order of the Phoenix, would let him swan off and marry the Golden Gryffindor without making his thoughts on the matter more explicit.

"You and I both know that Hermione would never agree to such a rapid conclusion to any agreement you may have reached. I've seen enough of the evolution of your thinking over the course of your tenure as the head of Magical Research to know that you haven't resorted to anything dark to compel her agreement, but somehow I suspect that you're moving things along at a more rapid rate than she would otherwise agree with. So, I'm going to ask you this once, very nicely and properly: what have you done?"

Kingsley's expression was forbidding and his eyes were hard if still pleasant. Lucius admired the man, even if he didn't particularly like him. He had been witness to enough of these types of private tête-a-têtes between the Minister and others to know that Kingsley wasn't above fighting dirty himself, his own wand having come out on a few memorable occasions. It was ruthlessness of a most admirable kind, and absolutely required to keep his job as Minister.

"We participated in the Beltane rite."

Kingsley processed this for a second. Lucius knew it was somewhat dangerous to admit that he had tampered with the wards on the matches, but Kingsley could have found that out easily enough if he went looking anyway.

"And the Sealing?"

"Accomplished Sunday."

Kingsley fixed him with a calculating glare. He didn't bother to accuse Lucius of gaining Hermione's participation via unwitting means—he was certain of that. No, the fact that Hermione herself had Sealed the agreement was damned interesting.

"Is she aware that she is responsible for the sudden necessity of the ceremony?"

Lucius did not appreciate that Kingsley was trying to behave as if he were Hermione's father, and drew himself up to his full height to look down his nose at the Minister. "I don't see how that is any of your business."

Kingsley regarded him shrewdly, then said, "Fine, if you want to play it that way. Now, what can you tell me about the French Ministry's puzzling silence regarding the Squib test? We've heard from every other Ministry around the world except for them."

"That would be a little 'quirk' of the French houses," Lucius murmured. It was very interesting that Kingsley was aware of the problem they were facing. He filed that piece of information away for further discussion with Draco.

"Would this 'quirk' also explain how it is that the Malfoys have never had a Squib born in nearly the six hundred years of recorded English births in that house?"

"It may," Lucius said. "You and I are well aware of the tendency of pureblood houses to mind their own business, Kingsley. Perhaps my wife might be able to crack that pattern once she is part of it."

"I see that we understand each other," Kingsley said, his eyes communicating more than the words. With that, he sat up straight and wordlessly shuffled his calendar forward. "When is the ceremony? I would like to wish you both joy."

"4 pm, in the gardens at Malfoy Manor. I will send an owl."

"Much appreciated." Kingsley's eyes were interested as he watched Lucius nod and leave. This was going to make many people very, very nervous.


	10. Notes of Joy and Sadness

**Yes, I wrote all of this today. Yes, I am crazy. It is purely the byproduct of a sick day at home with a not-so-sick child who is easily amused, as well as a diminishing laundry pile and relatively quiet work email inbox. Do not expect such a merry synergy to happen again.**

**THBS, props to AlesiaG for such thorough reviews...you'll have to wait and see about the French quirk! Viola, enjoy the girly moments here-and Karen, your answer awaits below! **

**As always, please let me know what you think!**

* * *

Hermione opened her eyes and blinked slowly, then sat up with a shot as her brain comprehended the amount of light filtering through her bedroom curtains. The sunlight glinted off a silver tinted rose in a bud vase on her nightstand, a tendril of _Akebia quinata_ twirled around it, two of its blossoms giving off the scent of chocolate. Beneath it was a brief note in a neat hand that she recognized.

_I popped in on the way to the office to check on you after last night. Given your friend's note, I assume you won't be in work today either. Tsk, tsk, Hermione, what __**will**__ the gossips make of that? Good thing your boss is so…flexible._

_I will be back at 4 pm to collect you. We need to run an errand together, and then I'm taking you to dinner. Dress robes, please. We will discuss the wedding then._

_L._

_P.S. I have to say your ass looks particularly delicious in those sleep shorts. We shall have to purchase more of those—perhaps with a bit of lace?_

"Not even here and he's still making me blush!" Hermione muttered to herself as she felt the hot flush creeping into her cheeks. The thought of Lucius in her bedroom, seeing her asleep…

She re-read the note and caught the reference to another one, and spotted the other slip of parchment underneath the empty vial of Dreamless Sleep. In it Ginny informed her that she was expected to show up at Lavender & Ron's house promptly at 10 AM to collect Lavender. She would pop herself over when she had 'collected a few things'. Hermione's brow furrowed at that, but a quick Tempus showed it was already 9:30, and she hadn't showered or dressed yet. Eek!

Thirty-five minutes later Hermione was ushered into Ron and Lavender's cozy if somewhat disordered house. Lavender was almost ready to go, piling Hermione's arms with a handful of things before grabbing another bag and announcing, "All right, let's be off then!", linking her arm firmly with Hermione's.

"I shouldn't even ask, should I?" Hermione said, and Lavender looked at her and replied, "No, you shouldn't. I've been waiting for this day for _ages_, Hermione Granger, and you're just going to have to put up with what Ginny and I plan to do to you."

Sighing, Hermione turned and brought them both back to her flat, where Ginny was already unpacking a hamper in the kitchen.

"What say we start with a toast to Hermione's engagement?" she called out, a pair of champagne glasses with mimosas floating out, Ginny following behind with her own glass. "And then you can dish, Hermione, while Lavender gets to work on your hair."

Lavender's eyes had that avaricious gleam she had had in school whenever a new beauty product came out. Hermione had been successfully evading her cosmetic attentions for years, but today was Lavender's dream come true. Hermione knew that Lavender was finding some small amount of success and no small degree of satisfaction in an unanticipated sideline as a hairstylist and beauty consultant, notwithstanding her troubling status as a werewolf.

"Oh, really…" Hermione said nervously, backing away from Lavender, who had produced her beech wand and was circling her with a calculating eye, taking a swig of the mimosa as she did so.

"Oh be quiet, Hermione. If you had let me at your hair back in school you wouldn't have had to spend so many Galleons on Sleekeazy potions, or forever be crucifying your scalp with all those hairpins to keep it in line for work. Sit!"

Lavender forced Hermione into the beauty salon chair she transfigured from one of the dining table chairs as Ginny folded herself into Hermione's reading chair, a mirthful expression on her face. "It had to happen sometime, Hermione. Just look at how nicely my hair behaves itself since I let Lavender have a crack at it. You remember how it used to blow up at the crown."

Hermione took a sip from her glass and steeled herself for the inevitable. Seeing her implied acceptance, Lavender clapped her hands and said, "I just love a new project! Now, dish, Hermione. Tell us, is Lucius as luscious with his lovemaking as his appearance would suggest?"

Hermione stuttered as she felt a spell taking hold on her hair, the curls unsnarling themselves so Lavender could have a look at her scalp and examine the way her hair naturally relaxed into her signature curls. "I am _not_ discussing Lucius' lovemaking with you lot. It's not like I want any details of how you shag Ron or Harry!"

"So he has shagged you then?" Ginny asked archly, her eyes laughing at her.

"Um, no…but not for lacking of trying on his part," she muttered as Lavender applied some type of potion to her hair from one of the copious bags she had brought with her.

"Oooo, that sounds juicy. Do tell!" Lavender said, her brown eyes flitting briefly to Hermione's face before she grinned at Ginny.

"It's not like I've been _flirting_ with him at the office, you know," Hermione said crossly, and Ginny rolled her eyes.

"When is the first time he kissed you?"

So Hermione told them about going to the Manor on Sunday, and how she had kissed him back, her magic responding to his in a way that still didn't make sense to her.

"It was the Sealing," Ginny said, refreshing all their glasses with the mimosa mix. "That's why he's pushing you to get married so quickly. You only have a limited amount of time after you accept him to be bonded."

"You Sealed him?" Lavender said with a surprised look. "Merlin, Granger, I thought you of all people would know better than that!" Her hands were still busy in her hair, and Hermione vaguely realized that Lavender was cutting it now, and squelched the flare of worry about what exactly her friend was doing to her hair.

"Yes, well, I didn't, and I did, and what exactly do you think the Beltane ritual actually means? Because I could not find any details about it in any of my research, and Lucius still hasn't told me exactly all it entails." As she had matured and made choices about what to do career-wise, Hermione had realized that there were certain things she would never be well informed about in the wizarding world, but she still disliked running into a topic about which she possessed little knowledge.

"I assume it has a strong fertility component," Ginny noted drily, sipping her drink. "It's not like he has made it a secret that he wants to get into your knickers, or that he admires your, as he put it, 'delicious ass'."

"Give me that!" Hermione said, half jumping from the chair when she saw that Ginny was holding Lucius' note from this morning. "You had no right to go snooping, Ginny!"

Lavender snatched the note from Ginny easily and read it quickly, her wand distracting Hermione with the increased clipping at strands of her hair.

"Hey, watch the haircut!" Hermione said with no little panic in her voice, and Lavender turned her head to scoff at her, "As if I'd let you look anything less than fabulous for a man who'd leave you a love note like this," she said, sending the note to Hermione after she'd taken a look at it again, then meeting Ginny's eyes. "Looks like a shopping trip to Irina's is in order."

"You should see the rose & chocolate vine he left on her nightstand," Ginny added gleefully, and Lavender's romantic heart sighed.

"Oh, Hermione, you are so fortunate. I love Ron to pieces, but he hasn't a romantic bone in his body." Lavender turned her attention back to Hermione's hair, and she was somewhat reassured that there seemed to be a cessation to the pieces of hair drifting to the floor, and Lavender was now applying yet another potion of some kind.

"Doesn't it bother you who we're talking about here? He's an ex-Death Eater," Hermione said, aware that she was more concerned about this than she let on. They had been incredibly supportive of all of this, but the niggling doubts about Lucius just wouldn't shut up on their own.

Lavender spun the chair around so she could face her. "Hermione, it's been almost ten years since the war. Lucius and Narcissa are the reason Harry is alive. Yes, he was a complete and total shit, but he was also clearly out of favor with Voldemort for some time before the final battle. And Draco has been nothing but kind to me and Ron since then—where did he learn those manners, except from his father? I think you need to judge Lucius by his actions today, and not by his past. Wouldn't you say he's earned that much?"

Hermione was stunned and humbled by Lavender's pragmatic advice. "I just have a hard time letting go of all the little shitty things he's done to me since he's been my boss," she admitted, realizing that maybe it was the sting to her pride instead of the war that was really responsible for any lingering misgivings.

"He's kept you on your toes and brought more resources to your work. Even Harry has had some good things to say about that. And you should know, Hermione, that Lucius visited Harry at home after Sunday. I know he's got Harry under some sort of Wizarding oath about whatever happened in Hogsmeade, but I'm not under it, and my brothers' extendable ears work as well as they ever did—he came over on Sunday and asked Harry to keep an eye on you when you're not at the Ministry."

Hermione's heart clenched at that piece of news, and Ginny waved some of the nibbly bits that she had brought from the Burrow toward her friend. "Eat and let that sink in."

Hermione ate one of Molly's ginger lemon biscuits absentmindedly. "Is that why Ron was so amenable to Lucius after he responded to my call?"

"Ginny and Harry told both of us what was going on, and it made perfect sense after the way he was acting at the Three Broomsticks," Lavender said. "After seeing the way Draco treats Astoria, I'd say you are going to be a very happily married woman."

"How would you know how Draco treats Astoria?" Hermione asked, not even caring that Lavender had moved on to applying some sort of skin cream onto her face.

"I was having some trouble with my wolfsbane potions. We couldn't find a good supplier and Ron decided to brew it himself." Lavender's voice had gone soft and she stopped applying the beauty cream to Hermione's face. Hermione leaned forward and stopped Lavender's hand before she could apply a gelly goo that moved of its own volition.

"Ronald Weasley? Voluntarily brewing a complex potion for you? And you say he's not a romantic," Hermione said sincerely, and Lavender burst into tears.

"Oy, no crying!" Ginny cried, coming back in from the kitchen, summoning the tissues again for her weepy sister-in-law.

"No, I know, it's so sweet. And he met with Draco to get help brewing it, you know? Draco was always good at potions, and he's only gotten better since becoming a healer. And he actually invited us over for dinner once, so we got to meet Astoria in private when she was pregnant with Scorpius. And they were really lovely. I was so envious of her—" Lavender broke off and Ginny leaped into the conversation.

"How many times do we have to tell you, we will all _love_ any child you have, regardless of whether it's born a werewolf or not? Trust me, Ron is crazy about you, and nothing could make him happier than to see you carrying his child." Ginny's voice was sympathetic but firm, and Hermione felt terrible for missing all of these undercurrents because she had been so buried in her work.

"Hey, if I'm going to be carrying a Malfoy soon, the least you could do is join me in my misery, Lavender," she said coaxingly, and it did exactly what she hoped, making Lavender burst out laughing.

"Oh, that is a good point Hermione! Can you imagine the pair of us pregnant at the same time? I think Ron would go spare!"

"I might talk Harry into a third if that were to happen," Ginny said wryly, and the three fell apart in a fit of giggles.

"So you think I'm going to fall pregnant fairly quickly, then?" Hermione asked, her heart pounding loudly as she considered it.

"A Beltane ritual? I'd say he's going to get you knocked up when he plucks your cherry," Lavender said with a satisfied smirk.

"I could have lost it at university…" Hermione protested weakly, but Lavender and Ginny just fixed her with 'the look'.

"Please. We know you. You're the type to hold onto it for the right man. Apparently, that man is Lucius Malfoy."

"Speaking of Luscious Lucius, what are you going to wear for your date tonight, hmm?" Ginny's eye fell back on the note Hermione was still clutching to her chest. "He said formal robes—I'm going to pull every pair you have from your closet. Lavender, you finish up with the facial while I bring them all out here. We have a killer outfit to put together!"

The rest of the day passed in a whirl of activity as Lavender continued to wreak her vengeance for having been denied access to Hermione's grooming for many years at school. She shaped up Hermione's eyebrows slightly, not that they were bad but they could and were better when she was through, the stray hairs that detracted from their straight lines removed. Her hair was cut in long layers, and Lavender had texturized it to remove the excess volume that usually sent it flying everywhere. Between that and her potions, Hermione's hair seemed perfectly well behaved, the curls lying nicely in long waves to her shoulders. She had imposed creams and elixirs and masks on her until Hermione fobbed her off on Ginny, who was happy enough to receive some pampering.

Lavender imperiously ordered her to try on the robes, and she and Ginny took turns critiquing and transfiguring until she barely recognized most of the outfits. Finally they settled on a set of robes that was a strange color, a combination of a slate blue and dark grey, with a neckline that plunged below anything that Hermione had ever worn, and they refused to let her take it off. Surprised, Hermione realized it was almost 4 pm, and Lavender redoubled her efforts.

Hermione drew the line at the makeup, so Lavender kept it simple, just some lipliner and a hint of a smoky grey on her eyelids. No eyeliner or mascara by Hermione's request, and if she blushed like that every time Lucius was mentioned, she would have an attractive flush by the time the man himself showed up.

"There, I think you're ready." Lavender said, stepping back. Just in time, too, because there was a knock at the door.

"We'll just be going then," Ginny said hastily, and before Hermione could turn around her friends had disapparated with two faint pops as Lucius came in. He was wearing a very tailored set of dark grey dress robes, which he had chosen to leave open to display a tight embroidered vest and pristine, high collared white shirt, his hair loose as he seemed to prefer it most of the time.

"My Golden Gryffindor," Lucius said, looking his fill. "I deduce that some of your friends must approve of me in some measure, if this is how they choose to prepare you for our evening out."

Hermione was suddenly very shy when she noticed how his eyes kept returning to the cleft between her breasts that was framed by the elegant dress robes. He noticed her response and drew her softly by the hand until she was quite close. "Never be ashamed of your power as a woman, witch. It is merely another facet of your charms."

Hermione looked up at him, then wordlessly slipped one arm around his neck and pulled him down for a slow, steady kiss. Lucius pulled back before it got to be too much to resist, and raised an eyebrow. "You are a quick study." His voice was slightly husky, which made Hermione smile.

"I do try."

"Minx. Let's go, before I bend you over your sofa and rip those robes off you."

Hermione's face heated at his words and she let him disapparate them both. They appeared in front of Gringotts, and Lucius stepped away briskly and tidied his robes, then offered his arm again. Hermione took it, noticing the whispers and darted looks being thrown their way as they entered the bank.

"You must learn, Hermione, to ignore the small people," Lucius said arrogantly as they approached the Head Goblin. Hermione was still somewhat of a persona non grata at the banking institution, but now she was on the arm of Lucius Malfoy, and the goblins paid him every deference.

"I need to access my vault," Lucius said, which was greeted by a nod from the Head Goblin. Hermione saw his eyes flick to her, then back to Lucius, who did not bother to conceal his irritation at the minute delay.

"Expynok?" Lucius prompted, and the head goblin fixed his attention on Malfoy, adopting what Hermione assumed was what Lucius expected as the proper deferential expression. She expected him to summon another goblin to take them down, but to her vast surprise the goblin got down from his stool himself and led them to the archway for cart retrieval.

Hermione was prepared for Lucius' vault to be on a level similar to the LeStrange vault, and she was not disappointed. The cart moved at a dizzying pace, and they went through two magical waterfalls before the cart finally pulled to a stop in front of a series of darkened archways. Hermione could have sworn she heard a sniff of displeasure from Expynok as they passed through both waterfalls without incident, and she had to bite her cheek to keep from laughing at the situation.

"Ah, here we are, pet," Lucius said, holding his hand out to Hermione. The goblin was waiting on the landing already, a curious and almost malicious expression on his face. Out of one of the dark arches a voice spoke, melodic but with a strange, harshly metallic undertone.

"The more that there is, the less that you see. Squint all you wish when surrounded by me."

It was spoken in Greek, a riddle. Hermione and Lucius spoke at the same time.

"Darkness."

The lights flared suddenly and Hermione found herself face to face with a living, breathing sphinx. It opened its eyes lazily and regarded them both keenly, long hair rippling over its shoulders as it spoke again. "Enter, wizard and witch of the house of bad faith."

Hermione could not like that literal interpretation of the Malfoy name, but what was there to be done about it? Expynok dared not mutter in front of Lucius, but Hermione saw him dart another malevolent look at her as he stepped forward briskly, pressing both palms cleanly to the door of vault. Those goblins sure held a grudge!

Lucius drew her forward and into the vault, which was actually a decent sized room. She felt the warm hum of layered magics as she passed through on Lucius' arm, and he let go of her as soon as they were through.

"The wards will recognize you for a short time because of the Seal. They will shift permanently after the Bonding ceremony."

"Do you use the Gemino and Flagrante curses as well?" Hermione asked, taking in the tables with neatly stacked valuables, and the many alcoves and cubbies that possessed vast quantities of Galleons as well as jewelry and goblin-worked items.

"Of course," Lucius replied, meeting his fiancee's eyes with a mischievous expression. "I do hope you will regale me with that particular tale sometime. I confess I am wildly curious as to what actually happened."

Hermione laughed briefly and a corner of her mouth lifted in a smirk. "I think perhaps that can be arranged."

Lucius shifted his attention again and pulled out a wooden case from an alcove littered with jewelry. "Ah, here we are." Turning to her, he flipped open the case. "I thought you might prefer to choose your own ring."

Hermione's eyes widened and she looked from the selection of rings to Lucius. "Truly?"

"I will hardly profess to know your every taste, Hermione. Perhaps this is an interesting question for me: which _I _think you would choose, and which you _will_ choose." His expression was innocent, but she knew there were sly undertones beneath.

"Very well," she said, taking the case and transfiguring a chair from a pile of Galleons.

"Mmmm, there is a picture. My future wife on a golden throne…should I be worried?"

Hermione ignored him, her eye drawn to two rings in particular. One was platinum, intricately worked with three oval rubies set at ninety degrees from each other. The other was a warm gold, the band cut in a series of Celtic knots with small cushion-cut emeralds evenly spaced around the entire ring. She picked them both and put them on her fingers to see how they looked, then removed them and looked at Lucius.

"We both know that wizarding marriages don't use a ring, Lucius. Did you really bring me all the way down here to test me over something so asinine?"

Lucius laughed and knelt down in front of her, catching her hand and turning it over to bestow an open-mouthed kiss on her palm. "I brought you down here to pick some jewelry for you to wear. The rings are the easiest to study for style. Now that I see what you prefer, I will select other pieces for you to have at your disposal in the future. Does this satisfy you?"

"I don't need any jewelry…" she began to say, but Lucius put a finger over her mouth.

"This is not about need, it is about appearances. And you will wear it because it will keep tongues wagging and it will make me happy to see you wearing it. And if tongues are wagging about your jewelry, and your new clothes, and your new husband, who is _scandalously _also your boss, then they are not wagging about your research. This is preferable, yes?"

He had drawn her up from the improvised chair and was running his hands in a salacious manner down her hips and to her bottom, pulling her between his legs easily so he could nibble on her neck.

"Mmmmmm…Lucius, the goblin…" Hermione whispered, able to see Expynok waiting impatiently outside the vault.

"He can neither see us nor hear us, I assure you," Lucius said with a laugh, then nibbled and sucked his way to her mouth where some utterly charming moans fell into his mouth in short order. Hermione's brain was utterly clouded with desire, a terribly unfair advantage.

"Yummy," Lucius said as he ended the kiss. "That makes me hungry for dessert. But now it is time for dinner."

Wordlessly Accioing a series of pieces from around the room and placing them in a pouch that he returned to his robes, he steered a pleasantly bemused Hermione from the vault and back to the surface.

"That won't work all the time, you know," Hermione said firmly after she realized how easily he had handled her.

"Oh, of that I am well aware, pet," Lucius said with a grin as they walked to the restaurant.

* * *

When Hermione woke the next morning, she stretched lazily in bed and remembered the glorious end of her date with Lucius. My God, that man could kiss, and his tongue did toe-curling things to her body as well. She blushed as she remembered how her dress robes had slipped from one shoulder, then the other, Lucius learning more of her body with a stunning precision. She shoved her head under her pillow and groaned as she realized that she was supposed to go to work this morning, simply to check on a few things before their wedding at four. Lucius had sent all the owls necessary to the invited guests, had the Manor's house elves working to prepare the food and gardens, and Kingsley Shacklebolt had given them time off for a honeymoon. All she had to do was show up, as Ginny and Lavender had taken it upon themselves to find the right robes for the occasion. Hermione felt like the nervous volunteer for the knife thrower at the circus!

"How am I going to face all those smirks?" she wailed to herself, then checked the time again. Ugh. No more dilly dallying, she had to get moving or she would be late. And she had to meet Neville for coffee as well. It was bound to be horridly awkward, since news of their engagement had been splashed in all the gossip rags, complete with pictures from last night. She penned a quick note to him as she finished pulling her hair into a low ponytail, a piece of half-eaten toast in her mouth.

_Neville, I'll explain all at lunch. Sorry in so many ways, I'm running late for work! Please say you're still coming. Hermione_

She sent Lucifer off and hurried to slip on her other heel, turning mid-hop. This was going to be a very busy day.

The snide remarks at work were just as bad as she feared. Witches who were accustomed to flirting their way through the ranks gave her the cold shoulder, while others gossiped that she was marrying Lucius simply to leapfrog ahead, the matches a lucky opportunity to overcome her status as a Muggle-born. As she was leaving a meeting with her junior researchers, she even heard someone accuse her of tampering with the results to compel Lucius to marry her.

Hermione cast the Sonorous charm on herself after that one. "Oy! I did NOT tamper with the results of the matches, and I do NOT want to achieve promotions simply because my future husband happens to be the department head! And I will hex the bollocks off the next wizard who dares to infer anything of the kind!"

Everyone was staring at her as she closed the charm, but she ignored them as she rushed to grab her bag and paperwork. She was fuming about the whole situation, and Lucius was wisely or luckily absent. It was lunchtime which meant he was probably at the department head meeting, and she was glad to have the excuse of her appointment with Neville to clear off her desk and leave. She caught a glimpse of Jessamine Misselle as she exited the division. The woman was studying her with amused curiosity, so Hermione gave her a curt wave, wishing she could give the finger to the whole crew of them.

She was still fuming when she met Neville at the Ministry café, absentmindedly kissing his cheeks before they both sat down. They were on the second floor of the café, so away from most prying eyes, but doubtless some pillock of a press wizard or witch would be hanging on their every word. She cast Muffliato and a variation of a broad Confundus charm, then looked frankly at Neville.

"It's good to see you, Hermione," he said honestly, folding his hands on the table in front of him. "I suppose the original reason for this is now moot, if the papers are to be believed."

"Oh Neville, you have no idea," Hermione said, summoning a coffee. Neville got his own and took a sip.

"I'm curious to hear what you have to say about it. After all, you know the most about this whole mess. I was hoping you could clear a few things up for me about how this is supposed to work."

Hermione admired how Neville confronted the problem head-on, and thought that whatever lucky witch married him, she would have a good one. She explained the matching system to him briefly, and emphasized that Lucius Malfoy had a weighted score, so to speak, given his previous marriage and parenthood.

"Ah, I thought it might be something like that," Neville said resignedly. "I suppose I just count myself lucky that I have another match, although I can't say I was planning to get married anytime soon. It's kind of a delicate thing to set up my own nursery, and I just don't have the time for distractions."

It was just the sort of thing Hermione had told herself about her own work, so she could understand his reticence. He had always been shy, so the prospect of courting a woman probably made him as nervous as hell, too. She realized she was staring at him and probably embarrassing him, so she blurted out, "Who is your other match, Neville? That is, if you don't mind me asking."

He grinned in a fetching way, if you were partial to the affable boy next door type, and said, "It's not anyone terrible, Hermione. It's Luna Lovegood."

Hermione's eyes warmed enormously and she smiled broadly. "Oh, but that's wonderful, Neville! She was always good in herbology, too! Oh I am very happy for you both!"

"Yeah, I suppose I could have done a lot worse, eh? At least I'm not having to marry some sixty year old witch…" Neville trailed off uncomfortably as he realized what he'd just said, and Hermione gracefully ignored it.

"What does Luna have to say about it all?"

"Well, she had been traveling quite a bit out of the country, something to do with Nargles or wrackspurts, I don't know. But I guess her father's health has been failing so she had to come back to take over the Quibbler, anyway. I'm meeting her for dinner later. I think it will be good, we just have to spend some time together first, you know? She is a bit mental, but I don't mind that, not really."

"Oh my goodness, Neville, I can't tell you how relieved I am to hear that. This whole law has got me tied up in knots. So many people are having to face these terrible marriages, all because of my work… I just ask myself sometimes, was it really worth doing this to everyone? Maybe there is another way, or I missed something."

Neville cut her off with a firm wave of his hand across his throat. "No, Hermione. You did us all a favor. Imagine what would have happened if the number of Squibs kept increasing and no one knew why. It would have degenerated into another Dark Ages, with everyone suspecting everyone else of poisoning them over obscure family vendettas or secret Dark rituals…it would have been a bigger disaster than this. You did the right thing."

"But look at what people are having to go through! I just can't help blaming myself for that—even St. Mungo's…" Hermione trailed off as she realized what that meant, and cast a horrified look at Neville. _Stupid, stupid witch_, she cursed herself mentally, wiping away the tears that had sprung into her eyes.

He returned her gaze steadily as he said, "It's okay, Hermione. It's not like they're breaking them up. And I'll get a sister or brother out of it, maybe more than one."

"Oh Neville, I'm so sorry!"

"It's not your fault, Hermione. I'll have another piece of them—I can only thank you." Neville finished his coffee, which had gone cold, then asked, "So, when's the wedding?"

Hermione exhaled sharply. "Today at 4 pm."

Neville's eyebrows rose in surprise. "So quickly?" He left the unspoken 'why' hanging in the air, and Hermione explained briefly about the courtship ritual.

"Sounds like a Malfoy, all right. You watch yourself around him, Hermione. He may be making the best of it, but he's still a right bastard in my book."

Hermione laughed shakily and wiped another tear from her eye. "Oh I know, Neville. Make no mistake, I know what he's like. But really, I think we will get on all right together. He's got his reasons for doing this as have I, and we'll just have to make the best of it. We both know that if a Malfoy really wanted to wriggle out of anything, they could. I guess I've started to believe him when he tells me he actually wants to marry me."

* * *

_*Note: the goblin's name, Expynok, is a derivative of the Greek "eksipnos", which means "clever". _


	11. Bonded

**Ok, here I reiterate that this fiction is rated "M". This chapter contains some lemony fluff, so if you're uncomfortable with that, I recommend skipping the end of the chapter after they leave the wedding. I've done my best to keep it sexy without being salacious. Thank you all for the marvelous reviews! I really appreciate the detailed feedback that so many of you are diligently providing. FanFictionAddict Kayla, articcat, KEZZ, Trekkergurl, arabellagrace, Lady Bookworm-thanks for consistently reviewing, even if they are short & sweet! **

**Things have been quiet on the question of who has their sights set on harming Hermione, but the honeymoon to follow will give some more clues. I'm working on that tomorrow, so hopefully will be able to post it on Monday or so. As always, let me know what you think! Thank you!**

* * *

Hermione had everything she needed from the office, so she Disapparated to her flat to pack her bags. She enjoyed the time to herself, aware that if she had gone anywhere else, she would have had an Auror escort. Lucius had been quite firm on that last evening, insisting that she didn't know how much danger she was in. She remembered what she had said then:

_"I suppose you think I'm going to let you hole me up in Malfoy Manor? Really you ought to know me better than that! I deserve to know what is going on, and I'm not going to stand for you shunting me to the side in some medieval notion of gallantry, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy!"_

_Lucius' lips had curved at her use of his middle name, and he had soothed her with a gentle touch on her hand, raising it to place a gentle kiss. "I would not dream of it, Hermione Jean Granger. Nonetheless, it is not something that we should be discussing on the eve of our marriage, wouldn't you agree? I promise most faithfully to let you know all developments as they make their way to me."_

Frowning, Hermione realized that he had not promised to tell her all he already knew or suspected. That slippery Slytherin, she would have to confront him about that later. With a sigh she took a look around her bathroom, which looked curiously barren with all her toiletries packed. She realized with a pang that this flat would no longer be her home, and wondered how she would feel to be surrounded by the opulent surroundings of the Manor all the time. She would have to deal with house elves, too.

Shaking her head at the enormity of the changes ahead of her, she Disapparated directly into Lucius' study at the Manor. Twigs greeted her and informed her that Lavender and Ginny were waiting for her already, and that Master Lucius had just arrived home himself. Apparently not seeing the groom before the wedding was a tradition in the wizarding world as well, because Twigs delegated another house elf named Firkin to show Hermione to the room she would use to prepare for the wedding.

"Okay, Hermione, are you ready to see it?" Lavender asked, an excitedly lilt to her voice.

"We have a couple of other choices, but there is one that we're pretty sure is it," Ginny said, unzipping a large garment bag.

"Yes, I'm ready," Hermione said, steadfastly ignoring the wistfulness that crept over her. She was missing her mother wildly, having always thought they would find her wedding dress together. It had felt right to hand that over to Ginny and Lavender—she didn't know if she could have borne trying on dress after dress without her mother's gentle comments and smiling brown eyes. Blinking back tears, she turned around.

"Oh my." The words fell from her lips without thought as she looked at the dress which Ginny was rotating with her wand.

"Let's try it on!" Lavender's voice was an excited squeak, and Hermione agreed with her.

Before she knew it Hermione was looking at herself in the mirror. The strapless bodice suited her, the straight top a foil to the way it hugged her breasts below, showing off their shape without being fussy. The top's simple columnar line flowed into a skirt that naturally shaped and hinted at her hips before flaring gently to the floor. A French bustle at the back added volume in a simple and elegant way. The dress was airily dotted with a large pattern, snaking tendrils, leaves and floral blossoms in bold silvery grey. The dupioni silk had a subtle sheen, perfectly complimenting the dress' form. It looked like a piece of art, and she was wearing it.

"I love it," Hermione said truthfully, tears in her eyes as she turned to her friends. "Thank you so much."

She was enfolded in their hugs and they all sniffed emotionally, then Ginny's voice turned business-like again. "Ok, let's get you ready."

Hermione had a bath while Ginny and Lavender prepped for hair and makeup. When she came out in her bathrobe, they sprung a charmed box on her, black with a pink ribbon that looked like a flower waving in the breeze and "Irina" scrawled in an elegant cursive silver. She opened it to find a very naughty set of lacy knickers and bra, as well as matching stockings. All of them were pale cream and grey, just like her dress, and Hermione blushed fiercely.

"We promise not to even _think_ of how you'll be getting out of these," Ginny said naughtily, and Hermione could not let it pass.

"I think it would be a better bet as to how many seconds they will stay on me when Lucius gets a look!"

They all laughed and settled in for hair and makeup. Hermione was allowed to open another box from Irina's, which contained a silky nightgown and a racy sleep set consisting of a camisole and sleep shorts.

"Lovely," Hermione said, closing the box. "Can you pack it for me, please, Gin?"

"Sure," Ginny called out, adding a few other pieces of her own choosing to Hermione's suitcase. Lucius had kept the details about their honeymoon to himself, so Hermione wasn't sure what she needed. Ginny knew that Hermione could transfigure whatever she wanted, but a witch shouldn't have to think about her clothes on her honeymoon.

Finally she was ready, Ginny and Lavender pressing hugs and kisses on her before they left for the gardens. Harry and Ron were waiting for her patiently. Since her parents were still missing, she had asked Ron and Harry to give her away. It seemed appropriate somehow, as Arthur Weasley was adamant that he was not going to endorse Hermione marrying Lucius Malfoy. Old wounds really were the most painful. Hermione hoped Molly had convinced him to come to support her if not her marriage.

"Hermione, this is it. Are you sure you're ready for this?" Harry's voice was supportive and neutral. Ginny would be pleased.

"You can change your mind, you know. I'm sure that you could still have Neville if you wanted," Ron offered.

Hermione turned from the view of the gardens below, the last few wedding guests taking their places, Minerva McGonagall among them. She gave Harry and Ron a small smile. "No, guys, I'm ready to marry Lucius Malfoy. I know it's going to be quite an adjustment, but you know I love challenges."

Ron laughed as Harry said, "You're right about that, Hermione. Shall we?"

He held his arm out, and Hermione linked her arm in his and then Ron's.

"Let's go make more history, chaps."

* * *

Hermione thought she was prepared for the bonding ceremony, but the sight of Lucius waiting for her was like a punch to the gut, a flood of warmth that she intellectually knew was in part due to the courtship ritual. She had not seen him so elegant before, a deep grey set of dress robes highlighted by a shirt so white it was nearly blinding and a vest that was shot through with gold and silver embroidery. Lucius' cool grey eyes flashed with fire at the sight of her, the only sign that he, too, was feeling the effects of the Beltane rite. A flare of heat passed between them as Harry and Ron entered the circle where the bonding would take place, then passed her hand to Lucius. They had agreed at dinner last night that the only person who made sense to cast the spell was Draco, and he was waiting patiently for them to look their fill, his own eyes laughing if his face was impassive.

"It is my privilege to have been asked to cast the bonding for my father, Lucius Malfoy, and his intended, Hermione Granger. As many of you are aware, I have not had the best relationship with either of them at times…" Draco paused for effect, and the guests laughed as he continued, "thus I think it's perfect that I will bind them to one another today."

Draco indicated that they should take their places, and Hermione and Lucius faced each other. Lucius held out his right hand and Hermione held out hers, and they clasped each other at the wrist. Draco pointed his wand, the words flowing effortlessly from his lips.

"Additisque lacrimis et melle. Petatur, custodivi: et custodiebat. Et fructificat simul. Separabis praeter sacram."

The thin golden cords wrapped around their wrists, pulsating and waiting. Draco looked at his father, and Lucius spoke.

"Where there has been cold, you have brought warmth; where there was darkness, you have brought light. Before this assembled company I pledge to be your husband from this day forward."

His vows were perfect, and Hermione had to take a deep breath before she could think of her own.

"Today I join myself to you before this company. May our days be long, and seasoned with love, understanding, and respect. Together we face all the days to come, as I willingly take my place as your wife."

The cords tightened briefly and glowed, then dissolved into their flesh. The faint marks would remain for all to see until the marriage was consummated, faintly glowing in the golden twilight. Draco turned and summoned a goblet of iridescent crystal which contained a golden liquid that shimmered slightly with each movement of the cup.

"As is traditional for the house of Malfoy, the bride and groom will partake of metheglin as a symbol of their bonding."

Hermione drank from the goblet first, the spices hitting her nostrils before the sweet warmth hit her tongue. Lucius drank next, his eyes never leaving hers. Then they both drank again, their hands clasped on the cup together as each drank the sweet and spicy brew.

"I present my father, Lucius Malfoy, and his wife, Hermione Malfoy." Draco stepped back and out of the circle with the cup, allowing Lucius and Hermione the sudden silent peace of their bonding circle. The guests could see them, but they couldn't hear them, the moment hanging suspended as they leaned toward one another, the kiss that unfolded more natural than breathing.

"Are you pleased, wife?" Lucius asked as he pulled away from her, their arms wrapped closely, that delightful warmth pervading every cell.

"Yes, I rather think I am, husband," Hermione replied, her hand falling in a gentle caress across his jaw as they retreated temporarily from one another.

"Let us greet our guests, then," Lucius said with a wink. "After all, I would hate to deprive them of your fetching company so quickly."

Hermione blushed at this reminder of the wedding night to come, and she made a pretty picture as Lucius led her out of the circle to the claps of the small group of guests. It was probably the smallest wedding in Malfoy history, but that suited the occasion for more reasons than one. Lucius had excluded the press and invited only those friends who were either truly supportive, or likely to spread the gossip far and wide. Some of the latter would take the smallness of the affair as an indication of his true feelings toward Hermione, and that was all to the good. For her part, Hermione only wanted her closest friends present, the quickly unfolding intimacy between herself and Lucius already known to them. By unspoken accord, they separated by a few feet to deal with the well wishes of their guests before dinner was served.

"You look beautiful, Mrs. Malfoy—just as a bride should on her wedding day," Minerva McGonagall said as she stepped forward to peck her cheeks and clasp her hands. "I wish you much joy from this marriage. I believe you are capable of creating anything."

"Thank you," Hermione said, unexpectedly teary at her former Head's compliment.

"You look gorgeous, Hermione!" Hagrid's voice boomed, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Lucius flinch. It was a small reminder of exactly how rocky this path was for them both, but Lucius continued speaking pleasantly to Kingsley Shacklebolt and Pius Thicknesse. The latter had taken over the Department of Mysteries, and was particularly interested in the goings on with magical research. Lucius had had several skirmishes with him over the idea of moving Hermione's work to the Department of Mysteries, but Hermione knew nothing about that, and he planned to keep it that way.

"Thanks Hagrid," Hermione said warmly as she was enveloped in a huge hug.

"I can't say I understand your choice Hermione but…" Hagrid was cut off by Molly Weasley, who had her brave face on.

"Congratulations dear," Molly Weasley said, hugging Hermione as Arthur waited patiently for his turn.

"I wish you all the best Hermione," he said sincerely, giving her a hug as well.

"Thank you so much, Arthur and Molly," Hermione said, then noticed that the elves were trying to usher everyone toward dinner. "It means a lot to me that you came."

The house elves had magically extended the pergola on the wide patio that stretched across the back of the house, and dinner was served there, everyone eating in groups of eight at tables that were bedecked with roses and twining vines that had been enchanted to crawl slowly around objects on the table. The latter caused a great deal of laughter, as guests found that sometimes their goblet was a bit too ensnared for easy retrieval.

Hermione and Lucius sat at a table with Draco and Astoria, Harry and Ginny, and Ron and Lavender. This had been the subject of quite an argument between them, as Lucius had wanted Kingsley Shacklebolt and his date at their table. Hermione had firmly insisted on her friends, refusing to let their table arrangements for their wedding be a political matter. Finally Lucius had suggested enlarging their table by two places, and thus Kingsley and his date, Aurora Sinistra, were also at the head table.

The conversations that flowed as freely as the wine were clever, Lucius and Draco sparring good naturedly with Harry and Kingsley. Lucius reached over during a pause in the conversation to caress her hand as she set her goblet back down.

"All right?" he asked pleasantly, his eyes meeting hers and holding them, that pleasing warmth spreading through her veins, an answering heat swirling in Lucius' quicksilver eyes.

"How much longer do we have to stay?" Hermione said boldly, and Lucius kissed her, his lips slightly wet and hovering for a second before he withdrew. He stood and pulled her to her feet.

"Dance?"

"Yes please," Hermione said, gathering her skirt and allowing Lucius to lead her to the tent that was set up for dancing. The strains of Strauss indicated a waltz, and Lucius smoothly drew her close and they started to dance.

"Rather traditional, don't you think?" Hermione said, which made Lucius laugh.

"Yes, I grant you—but I don't think our guests want the display that a tango would elicit under the circumstances."

Hermione felt a shock of heat at his words, and looked away from him. She felt suddenly shy, knowing that in a very short time they would be alone and nothing would stop them from consummating their bond. Lucius sensed her panic and simply drew her closer, whispering, "I promise to stop thinking about what you have under that enchanting dress if you promise to start thinking about whether I'm a boxers or briefs man."

Hermione was feeling decidedly warm, and she couldn't bear the thought of flirting like this with Lucius in front of everyone for the rest of the evening. It felt too intimate. So she pulled her husband down with a gentle hand on his neck and whispered, "But it's so much more entertaining to think about you wearing nothing at all."

Lucius halted and Hermione was at that moment mindful of the raw power her husband held in check. She could feel his magic swirling around him as he led her off the floor and away from the dancing guests, heedless of the few who darted looks their way. He brought her into the manor and up to the master bedroom, closing the doors with an impatient backward flick of his hand. Hermione was transfixed by the look he was giving her, raw sensuality mixed with that cool assessment that had always sent a thrill up her spine.

"Where is your wand?" Lucius asked, his voice deeper and slightly guttural.

Hermione reached up and pulled it from her messy chignon. She had enchanted it to be invisible when it was thrust so, but it was the best place to have it close at hand.

"Clever girl," Lucius said as he withdrew his own wand from his sleeve, then leaned in to nibble on her neck, causing Hermione's head to fall to the side, a small moan escaping her lips. He chuckled against her skin, his warm breath sending more skitters of heat across her flesh as he lifted his head to look at her.

"Take this," he said, offering her his own wand as he plucked hers from her unresisting hand.

"What…?" Hermione started to say as she gripped the curly maple wand, Lucius drifting around to her back, dropping a few kisses on her bare shoulder as he did so.

"Wand magic is very intimate, darling. I'm going to use your wand to ensure our privacy, and then I'm going to teach you the Fidelius. And you're going to use my wand to do it."

"Ahhh," Hermione breathed as Lucius' lips caressed the back of her neck, sending more incredibly arousing sensations down her spine. She watched his right arm wave lazily, her vine wand flicking effortlessly in his hand as he murmured first a silencing charm, then a privacy charm. His left arm had snaked around her waist and pulled her back firmly against him, the feel of his erection heating her up in a dangerous way.

"Now, pet, the Fidelius, if you please," his voice was warm and throaty against her right ear, his hair tickling her skin. Hermione looked at the wand in her hand—the curly maple was perfect for him, a pattern of dark and light bands. He didn't use a wand handle anymore, she had noticed, but the helm was carved intricately in a faint pattern that one wouldn't be able to make out from a distance, but which gave amazing depth to the fingers holding it, the pattern fitting like a glove against her fingers. Hermione's only experiences with others' wands had been less than desirable, but this wand felt different, its magic complementing hers. She turned her head to meet Lucius' eyes, and he wordlessly challenged her to use it.

Summoning her courage and fixing her mind on the spell, she was able to ignore the sizeable distraction of Lucius at her back and begin the wandwork for the Fidelius. She gasped as the magic of Lucius' wand intertwined with her own as she cast the spell, and she was aware of a sudden rush of arousal between her legs.

"You stopped," Lucius lazily drawled in her ear, "try again."

Hermione flushed as she realized exactly how intimate this was. It was just as intimate as having his hands on her body. He was seducing her with his magic.

Trembling, she began the Fidelius again, this time with Lucius coaxing and whispering instructions in her right ear. The rush from his wand magic and her own blending in such a complex spell was almost orgasmic, and Hermione shuddered as she realized she had finished the spell, the enchantment taking hold. Lucius turned her in his arms, her dress dropping away as she kissed him hotly, the strength of her arousal more than a match for his own.

"Am I a Secret Keeper for our bedroom as well then, darling?" Lucius teased when he managed to disentangle his tongue from her own.

"Need you ask?" Hermione was breathlessly removing his clothes, but it wasn't going fast enough for her taste. They had pulled and pushed each other over to the bed, and she wordlessly Divestoed the rest of his clothing while he looked his fill at the silver and cream lace that framed her delectable breasts.

Lucius was delighted that she was giving as good as she was getting, and did his own bit of vanishing, the remainder of her underwear gone. "I do so love you in lingerie, Hermione, but you in nothing at all is infinitely more stimulating."

The feel of skin on skin was shocking for Hermione, but she was too far gone to feel anything other than delight as their mouths met with passionate intent. Her hands wandered of their own volition, tracing Lucius' shoulders and back while his explored her breasts and then her hips. She felt the ridges of old scars, and felt a dart of curiosity to see them in better light sometime, this proof of her husband's mixed past. When he traced the paths of his hands with his mouth, cries fell unbidden from her own as Lucius loved her body. It was too heady, too good. He must have read that in the way her hands clenched in his hair, and he kissed her again, their tongues dancing as his hips came down heavy between her legs.

"Lucius, I need you," Hermione panted.

"I know, dearest," he pressed a kiss on her lips as he pressed forward.

"Oh, Merlin, yes—no, no! That doesn't feel good anymore," Hermione protested, and Lucius groaned.

"I know, sweetling—it will be better momentarily. But I have to finish this." He stopped her protests with his lips and finally slid home. "Oh god, witch, you are exquisite."

The pinch and then burn of Lucius claiming her had dampened her ardor somewhat, but Hermione was also amazed by the feel of having him inside her, fully claiming her. He dropped kisses on her neck and face as her body accustomed itself to his presence. Then he began to move and she forgot everything else as he taught her how delicious sex could be. She found that she could move just _so_ against him, causing Lucius to groan against her neck in a way that made everything hotter, faster, brighter, until at last their bodies caught fire and they were simply one entity, lost to the heights and brilliance of passion well spent.

Who knew how many minutes later, Hermione felt herself returning to reality, her arms clasped around Lucius' neck while his were buried beneath her. He shifted them slightly, rolling to his side and propping his head on his left hand as he cupped her face with his right.

"Consummation is sweet, Hermione."

"Mmmmm," Hermione murmured in reply, bringing her fingers to trace his lips. He was thoroughly mussed and looked well kissed. She was mesmerized as the marks from their bonding glowing brightly before they vanished from their wrists. Lucius met her eyes, his own softly amused.

"It is made sweeter by the knowledge that no other has had the pleasure of your beautiful body, wife." Lucius had strongly suspected it, but she had not told him. "I confess myself surprised that you did not think it pertinent to mention beforehand."

Hermione blushed, which was ridiculous really given that they were naked and had just had passionately hot sex. "I didn't know how to bring it up—and I didn't want you to think me terribly gauche."

"I'm simply amazed that your dunderheaded peers didn't succeed in getting into your knickers. Naturally, however, I am selfish enough to be delighted by that," Lucius said, twirling one of her curls around his finger absentmindedly.

"I don't think they ever thought of me in that way," Hermione admitted, her eyes hesitant. "I was simply the brainy witch who told everyone what to do."

"They were fools," Lucius said firmly, pulling his wife toward him and laving her collarbone. "Mmmmm, delicious…I think I'd like a second course, please."

"Lucius…" Hermione started, but her husband was ahead of her, wordlessly Summoning a potion from the bathroom.

"Drink this, dearest. I don't want you sore."

Her expression softened at this display of thoughtfulness, and she drank the pain potion. It tasted different and Lucius made an approving sound in his throat as he licked her ear. "Yes, it's a bit of a combination potion…one of my own. Cissy found it…useful given my appetites."

The mention of Narcissa should have put her off, but somehow it didn't. She appreciated that Lucius did not try to hide his experience from her, but rather gave it to her as the gift that it could be.

"Do you miss her?"

Lucius pulled back to look at her. Her expression was kind and innocently curious, and he let out a breath of relief. It was gauche of _him_ to mention his first wife in bed with his second on their wedding night, and he was relieved she was not offended by the lapse of his brain.

"Yes, I do. I probably will always miss her in a way. But she is my past, Hermione, and you are my future. I look forward to living it together…and how you will shake me up as you have done our entire world."

Her husband's expression was wry and amused, laced with the sly fondness she had caught from him since she had agreed to wed him. She wouldn't use the "L" word, but he cared about her, as she did for him.

"What sort of appetites might need sating, husband?" she asked innocently. "Do we need to get you a snack from the kitchens?"

"Oh no, my dear. I only require your luscious body and those delightful moans you make."

He flipped her over and pressed kisses on her shoulder blades, interspersing them with whispers of what he was planning to do to her. Hermione discovered she loved it when Lucius talked dirty to her, and Lucius discovered that his new wife was quite a lioness indeed…and thus they passed the rest of their wedding night in a happy exploration of the many and varied delights of their conjugal union.


	12. The French Connection

**Good evening, readers! Thank you to all for your thoughtful and encouraging reviews. It is highly gratifying to have passed 100 reviews for the first time for one of my fanfics. Clearly, the Harry Potter fandom is the most diligent. ;) As always, I own nothing, thanks to JKR for the marvelous universe in which my imagination roams.**

**Well it's a day late, but I had to take some time to hash out some plot points for the next little bit, and then part of this chapter was less than cooperative so I had to toss part of it and rework it. Our newly married couple are bonded, but what now? Are they going to have an idyllic honeymoon? Hmm, somehow I doubt it! As always, please read and review! Thank you!**

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"Wakey, wakey, pet."

Hermione blinked and stretched lazily, her eyes focusing on her husband's face as one arm dropped back on top of Lucius' warm shoulder. "Mmmm…good morning."

"How are you feeling today, witch?" Lucius was satisfied to note that she looked well satiated—hardly surprising since there had not been much sleep throughout the night.

"Like a sex kitten, frankly," Hermione said honestly, drawing a laugh from her husband.

"Hmmm, I like that idea very much. We will have to explore that further on our honeymoon."

Hermione's hand had started idly tracing a pattern on his chest, and he captured her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the pads of her fingers gently. "If you keep that up, we will not be off for our honeymoon in good time, wife; and your new son-in-law will most assuredly know what we are doing, as he is waiting for me to transfer the wards to him for the duration of our absence."

This perked her up, and Lucius could practically see the gears shifting in her mind from sensual to intellectual. Since it was exactly what he had hoped to achieve, he further elucidated, "The wards are controlled by the master of the manor, and enhanced by my presence. Since we will be gone for a week, it is better to transfer the wards to Draco, and they will spring back to me when we return. It will keep them at their maximum potency, which I cannot help but think wise under the circumstances."

"How many different wards are on the Manor?" Hermione asked, fully curious about the subject. There were few in the wizarding world who held a home with such complex and aged enchantments on it.

"I am not entirely certain, as some are layered and it is impossible to tell if they are distinct spells or if they are simply complex enchantments. If I had to guess, I would say at least thirty."

Lucius had risen from the bed as he explained, unself-conscious about his nudity as he put on a dressing gown and walked around to Hermione's side of the bed, holding a matching robe for her to slide into after she took his hand and rose from the bed. He pressed a kiss on her neck, then stepped back.

"I'm going to have a quick shower and then go over a few things with Draco before we leave. You are welcome to join me or to have a bath, whatever you like."

Hermione could only approve of Lucius' solicitousness. He was everything charming—obviously a wonderful side effect from all the shagging. She was not averse to continuing such amorous activities, either, and if it made her husband less snarky the next morning, so much the better!

"I think I will have a bath, _pet_," she said, her eyebrow quirking upward and her expression sarcastic.

"Don't like that pet name, do you? We'll have to see what we can find that you do like…although I seem to recall it didn't seem to be a problem last night…" Lucius ran his hand inside her robe, and Hermione kissed him so sweetly that Lucius abandoned his resolve to keep them on schedule, slipping the robe off his wife as he lifted her legs around his waist and they fell back onto the bed. He couldn't help himself—she was so damn attractive when she was feisty.

Half an hour later, Lucius left his wife coming down nicely from the warm aftershocks of their lovemaking and had a quick shower, using a charm to dry himself and his hair before he went to their closet to get dressed. He heard Hermione running the bath while he was finishing tying his cravat, and exited the spacious walk-in closet to the lovely sight of her bare bottom as she checked the temperature of the bathwater. _What a Muggle thing to do_, Lucius thought with amusement, and he smacked her bottom, which made her yelp and jump in the air slightly.

"Twenty minutes, pet. Don't make me wait, or I'll drag you off half-naked."

Hermione turned to stick her tongue out at him before she slipped into the warm water. "You'd enjoy that _far_ too much for me to let it even be a possibility."

"Pity," Lucius said with mock regret, then leaned over to give her a quick kiss. To his delight, she caught his hair back with a wandless and wordless charm so it would not get wet. His eyes were approving as he drew back. "I could have dried it, but I thank you for the thought."

Her eyes were warm and she waved him off. "Go on, then, I'm sure Draco is going balmy having to wait for you."

Lucius' lips quirked and he thought to himself that he was going to quite enjoy getting to know this witch further. She was charming in many ways, curiously backward in others, but always entertaining.

Shaking his head to clear it as he entered the library, he found Draco reading a book with the appearance of indifference, but he closed it with a bit more snap than necessary.

"Good morning," Lucius said cheerfully, knowing that would further irritate his son.

"God, you look disgusting," Draco said, his expression irritable.

"Ah, yes, I remember those days well—when you have a young baby and your wife is more interested in your offspring than having wild sex with you. It will pass," Lucius said with a smirk, and Draco shivered.

"God, Father, must you go there? Isn't it bad enough that I know you're shagging a former classmate until she's cross-eyed? I really don't want your advice on my own sex life, thank you very much!"

"Thank you ever so much for the compliment, Draco. I don't recall whether Hermione was precisely cross-eyed…" Lucius appeared thoughtful, and Draco winced.

"LA LA LA LA! Argh, I don't need those mental pictures! Damn it…Mrs. Sprague-Dawley, dead kittens…ugh, that's better. Just transfer the damn wards, please, and take your odiously shag-happy self and your new wife far away. Hopefully you will have gotten some semblance of control by the time you return."

"I do so appreciate these touching moments we share, Draco," Lucius replied, removing his wand so they could get down to business.

Draco rolled his eyes but removed his own elm wand from his sleeve and followed his father to the front door.

"I do hope we haven't delayed you from your work," Lucius tossed back as he drew a circle with his wand, then threw it up on the door and began sketching symbols in it.

"Of course you have," Draco muttered. "However, everyone is aware that familial obligations do infringe from time to time."

"Indeed," Lucius replied, focused on the wards that had come to life and were feeding back into his wand. "Son…"

Draco stepped up and joined his own wand into the scribing, his hand less elegant than his father's. Lucius blamed his messy scrawl on the Black blood—damn impatient family, that. Nonetheless, Draco was quite adept with his magic, and he was proud of his son. Lucius finished his part and stepped back to watch Draco complete it. It was only the second time they had done this, the first being when Lucius was awaiting trial before the Wizengamot. Say what you liked about Draco's penmanship, his wandwork was efficient and clean. He finished the spells and lowered his wand.

"Excellent. I trust you will refrain from consuming all of my thirty year old firewhiskey in my absence."

"I intend to make as large a dent as possible," Draco said, giving an iconic bow to his father before he left for work.

"Don't call us, we'll call you," Lucius called after his son before he Disapparated. "I'd hate for you to see anything you don't want to see!"

"You're a right bastard!" Draco called back, then disappeared with a wink.

"Ah, family," Lucius murmured with a satisfied air. That reminded him of Hermione's likely condition after they consummated their bond. They had not discussed it, but she was smart enough to know the likely outcome. Nonetheless, it was worth a proper discussion at some point over the next week. He opened the door again, feeling one layer removed from the familiar wards. The last time it had bothered him because it represented the potential loss of it all. Now, however, it simply felt like a minor break from some of his responsibilities, and he intended to enjoy it as much as possible…apart from the other necessary business which had to take place. He re-entered the foyer briefly and found Hermione waiting for him. Better and better.

"Are you not packed, husband? Tsk tsk," Hermione greeted him, giving him an airy kiss on each cheek before pointing to her shrunk luggage with her wand.

"As if I would give you the satisfaction," Lucius retorted, patting his pocket. "Shall we?"

Hermione pocketed her own luggage and took his arm. "Where are you taking me? You haven't said, and I'm wild with curiosity."

"All good things come to those who wait," Lucius said mysteriously, then escorted her outside.

"Are we not using Side-Along then?" Hermione asked, and Lucius knew it was a sly way of asking how far they were going to travel.

"No, minx, we are not. We are traveling by portkey, and you ask far too many questions. Now, grab hold. We depart in exactly twenty seconds."

Lucius tapped a bright brass key with his wand and Hermione touched it, then felt the familiar pulling through her navel as they vanished, colors whirling past at a dizzying speed. She was thankful for Lucius' arm steadying her as they were suddenly upright, gently moving down as if on an invisible escalator. Lucius pocketed the key and Hermione took in the rolling hills of vineyards, the sunlight warmer than in England.

"France?" she asked, and Lucius smiled.

"Yes. We have holdings here," Lucius turned her around, and she saw the white château, a small but formal garden laid out around it. "This is the Château Plein de Morgue. It has been in the Malfoy family since 1067—obviously expanded and rebuilt a few times due to wars."

"Haughty House. I can't imagine how that name was ever associated with Malfoys," Hermione said innocently, looking away from him as if she hadn't just insulted him.

"Ah, but hauteur is a valuable tool, Hermione. It keeps the cowardly at bay, and causes even the brave to consider before treading on our toes." Lucius' voice had dropped just enough to make it sexy as hell, and Hermione knew she would be in trouble indeed if she didn't retaliate.

"It will not stop fools, however," Hermione remarked smartly, walking toward the château. "Or those who simply know better."

"I suppose you always knew better, hmm? You weren't at all intimidated by me when I interrupted your work and got this—close—to you," Lucius backed her up against a topiary, his eyes cooler than ice, the expression of condescending hauteur he wore so well firmly in place. "Don't lie to me, dear. I know exactly the effect my hauteur has on people, including you."

"Yes, you intimidate with it quite well. However, now I can just picture you naked. I'm afraid it does rather deflate the effect," Hermione's tone was equally cool, her expression amused.

"Deflating, am I? I'll show you deflated," Lucius said.

They didn't make it past the gardens. Afterward, Hermione gazed at the puffy white clouds from the pillow of Lucius' arm.

"I've always wanted to make love out in the open in broad daylight. Thank you for fulfilling that particular fantasy." She turned over halfway through her speech, wanting to savor the full effect of her words. To his credit, Lucius' eyes only narrowed slightly. He did not have to acknowledge that she had succeeded in provoking him for them both to know it.

"I see having a Slytherin in you has made you far more cunning, Hermione. Be careful that you don't fall into one of your own traps, witch."

Eventually they collected their clothes from the bushes and made their way inside. It was cool and spotless, as could be expected. A house elf popped in to greet them, and Hermione sighed soundlessly. She knew that house elves were essentially tied to a place, but Lucius hardly had the best track record for his behavior with them. It was another area where they were bound to stridently disagree.

They passed a pleasant morning exploring the vineyard and house, Lucius elaborating more on the French branch of the family. Hermione was fascinated by the interplay between wizard politics and muggle politics, as Lucius explained how the rapid advancement of Henry Plantagenet was in fact a fruit of Malfoy chicanery, whereby they displaced the powerful Count of Bruges, who happened to be of a wizarding family that had unwisely chosen to expose itself to Muggles. Apparently the Count had charmed his ships, creating faster boats that were better able to ply their trade and giving him a rapid trade advantage. This would have been acceptable, of course, if he had been willing to share his largesse with the other wealthy wizarding landowners of the time. Unfortunately, the Count was no match for Malfoy cunning, as they rapidly cut him down to size by using the brute strength of Henry of Anjou and establishing his marriage to Eleanor of Aquitaine. If it had the pleasant side effect of thoroughly riling their opponents in the brutish Anglo-Saxon England, so much the better!

"Yes, it was a charmed arrow that brought the man down in battle with Henry's forces. The Malfoys were quite clever with poisons back then."

"Only back then?" Her voice was teasing but he nipped her neck with his teeth anyway, then soothed the spot with his tongue.

"Surely you can't imagine I would soil my hands with such tedious potion making," he quipped lightly. "Now, be quiet. I am going to explain how the Malfoys came to reside in England as well."

They were lolling in between the rows of the vines, a lovely breeze keeping them cool in the shade. Lucius had transfigured a strange sort of chair cushion and was lazily propped against it, Hermione relaxing in his arms.

"The country was fractured and the Hundred Years' war between Muggles was still raging. It had started to impact the wizarding society as well, and there was concern that wizards would be drawn in further than the ancillary skirmishes that were becoming frequent and tedious. Because France was so unstable, some wizarding families had actually lost estates and were increasingly being harassed by the church."

"Why weren't all of their estates unplottable?" Hermione asked.

"At the time remember that yields were not as high as they are today, and in order for families to have wealth, they had to be seen to possess vast estates. Anything less was highly suspicious. Can you imagine making a thousand acre estate unplottable? It's not possible. Thus the lines between Muggle and Wizard were quite muddied."

"I suppose it would require far more magic that it is practical or possible to expend with a single spell as well," Hermione observed.

"Indeed. So, at the time it was possible to maneuver through, but due to their history with the Plantagenets, my ancestors had a better relationship with some of the English. It made sense to exploit the ties, given that it was unclear which country would win and emerge more influential. Two brothers, Lance and Mallory, were sent to pursue an alliance with a powerful English wizarding family. It devolved rapidly to one target: whoever successfully married the daughter of Salisbury would win, because he would naturally assume her dower lands. Lance was determined to triumph, and he used a combination of tricks and stratagems to woo the lady and her powerful father, while Mallory attempted to persuade the Muggle king to compel the marriage. Lance conceded that Mallory had won when the Muggle king did issue the decree, but he snuck into the castle and obliviated him, then managed to obtain her participation in a courtship rite the very evening before Mallory was due to arrive. Her father had to consent to a rapid marriage given the events of the evening, and Mallory was forced to return to France. He cursed his brother's deceit, and that is how we came to carry the 'Malfoy' sobriquet. Up until that time, the family name was Malfaille, and so it still remains for my French cousins."

Hermione turned to look at him, her expression calculating. "And the rite he used?"

Lucius grinned. "I think you know the answer, pet."

"You have not answered me when I asked about the Beltane ritual," Hermione felt a flutter of nerves. Although she probably already knew the answer to her question, she wanted to hear it from Lucius directly. She turned around and looked at him. "Am I pregnant now?"

Lucius' countenance was calm and his eyes were like silver mirrors. "Yes, I'm sure you are. It's too early to tell, but it's not the sort of rite that has a high failure rate in that respect."

Hermione took a deep breath before she spoke again. Her feelings were muddled by the whole thing. "Did you not think it a good idea to ask me first? What if I'd rather we waited for a few months before we were serious about trying?"

Lucius sat up and crossed his legs as Hermione sat back on her heels. "I think we both know you would not have agreed to participate in the rite. And I had my reasons—not all of which I am comfortable explaining to you at this time."

"So you made a decision for which I will suffer the consequences? What if I get terrible morning sickness? What about bedrest? My mother suffered three miscarriages before she had me—who knows what I'll be like pregnant, Lucius! And I'm the only one qualified to do the research on the housekeeping gene and epigenetic regulators. I don't know if it's possible to re-regulate it for those poor children, but I have to keep trying. This could set everything back by months—"

Lucius stopped her mouth by putting a finger on it. "Enough. The point of these marriages is to produce children. The sooner we do so, the less interesting we are to the general public. We can deal with any complications, and yes, before you ask for my permission, I will allow you to continue working…"

"Allow?" Hermione was getting annoyed now, as was Lucius.

"Yes, _allow_. It is not customary for witches in our strata to continue working after they get pregnant, and my wife is hardly any different."

"Bon jour?"

Hermione and Lucius both froze as they heard the man's voice.

"Who is that?" Hermione asked as Lucius muttered simultaneously, "Merde embulante."

He stood quickly and helped Hermione to her feet.

"This is one of my cousins, Bedell Malfaille. He is not the one we should worry about—that would be his brother Bertrand. Do be on your best behavior, please," Lucius said while fixing a pleasant smile on his face as they ambled out of the vineyard.

Hermione did the same but hissed under her breath, "Why does it matter if your _mudblood_ wife impresses your arrogant relations or not? After all, I'm so uncouth that I intend to keep working even while carrying your precious Malfoy offspring."

Lucius stopped while they were still out of earshot and plucked a rose blossom from the garden, then whispered when he tucked it behind her ear in an apparent gesture of gallantry, "Because they hold the key to unraveling the reason the French Ministry has not asked for your test, and hence may offer a path to those behind the attacks on you."

Hermione smiled wider and kissed Lucius, purely for the benefit of their smirking audience. Privately she was still fuming, as Lucius probably was as well. It was a discussion that would have to wait, and Hermione turned to meet the wizard, her Occlumency shields firmly in place.

"Bedell, what a surprise," Lucius greeted in a manner that indicated how unwelcome his intrusion was. "Please allow me to present my new wife, Hermione. Hermione, this is one of my cousins, Bedell Malfaille."

Hermione had sized up the cousin in thirty seconds and had concluded that he was an indolent sort, his hands showing no signs of any labor and his waistline indicating a less than rigorous attention to anything strenuous. He was not large, and not quite as tall as Lucius, but had the fair hair that apparently characterized the Malfoys/Malfailles on both sides of the Channel. He fairly oozed unctuous and his more than perfunctory kiss to her hand confirmed it. She was put in mind of Mr. Collins from Pride and Prejudice once he started talking, a litany of patently rehearsed compliments falling prettily from his lips.

"You are too kind, Monsieur," Hermione said, firmly placing her arm in Lucius' while he steered the conversation back to the question of Bedell's reason for visiting.

"You must realize, Bedell, that you are interrupting our honeymoon. We were only recently bonded, and I brought Hermione here to acquaint her with some of our French holdings."

"Oh, but of course! A thousand apologies, dear cousin Lucius! We read the paper this morning, you see, and given the charming account of your ceremony I could not resist the temptation to see if you were here," Bedell said, highly attentive to their reactions despite his slippery eloquence.

"It was everything we wished it to be," Lucius replied ambiguously, giving no hint of a reaction to a press report. Privately he thought he would be sending Kingsley and Yaxley some howlers, and resolved to get a copy of the papers as soon as possible.

"I was very fortunate to be matched with Lucius," Hermione offered sweetly, an innocently satisfied expression on her face.

"Oh, but of course, madame! Lucius is an incredible catch, but dare I say, he is also fortunate to have caught you?"

"You are too kind. Perhaps you would like to join us for a brief aperitif before you go? I believe we were intending to sample the fruit of the vineyard from a decade ago—Lucius was saying it was a memorable year with fourteen degrees Baumé, so it should have aged quite nicely."

Hermione had decided to take the lead on offering hospitality since Lucius was not indicating either way, and he would have gotten rid of the man if he desired to do so. Bedell readily agreed to her suggestion, and Hermione caught a flash of approval in her husband's eyes as she excused herself briefly to request some crackers and cheese from the house elves along with the wine.

They passed a pleasant half hour in idle conversation before Bedell declared that he had to return to his own château. Happily he indicated that this was not very far away.

"I hope I may have the pleasure of extending a dinner invitation in a few days' time when I am settled? I have just arrived from Paris, you understand, but I will not hear of you staying in this part of the country without coming to dinner."

"Regrettably, Bedell, that will not be possible on this trip. As I'm sure you are aware, there are pressing matters which must engage our attention again in England. We will be spending some time in Paris, naturally, before returning home."

"Ah, a great pity! Well, of a certainty you must accept my hospitality on your next visit." Hermione could tell that Bedell was not disappointed in the slightest, having achieved whatever aims he had in paying the call.

"But of course," Lucius said easily, meaning none of it and they all knew it. With an equally solicitous farewell, Bedell took himself off and Lucius escorted Hermione back inside to the library and away from the drawing room where they had entertained their guest.

"This puts an entirely new complexion on things," Lucius began without preamble, his expression serious. "We have been here less than twenty-four hours and already we are being watched. It accelerates things quite a bit."

"Lucius, please tell me exactly what is going on. I realize that your cunning nature precludes discussing the twentieth move on the chessboard with me, but at least outline the next five, please, so we are not working at cross-purposes. You could start by telling me exactly how you think the French Ministry is possibly involved in the attacks." Hermione tucked her legs up underneath her in a comfortable position on the couch, then pointedly eyed the other end until Lucius sat down.

"As charming as France is for a honeymoon destination, I did not choose it to be romantic," Lucius began, and Hermione interrupted him.

"You could give me some credit, if you don't mind. I had already figured that out for myself, Lucius. Charming side effects from the ritual aside, you have been quite busier at work than normal, and that can only mean you have been working away at discovering what is going on. But I have interrupted you, I apologize. Pray, continue."

Lucius eyed her with some degree of irritation, but decided to let it pass—a wise move given the argument they were undertaking in the vineyard prior to Bedell's arrival. "Yes, as I was saying, I had other motives for bringing you here. The French pureblood houses have a very low rate of Squib births, and have done for years and years—centuries, in fact. It is a little known matter outside of pureblood families that records are kept—breeding records, for lack of a better term. And those records are consulted before marriages are arranged."

"So you have been managing your bloodlines to avoid this recessive gene before you even knew what it was."

"All evidence would seem to support that hypothesis, yes. But some families have additional means at their disposal to assist in arranging advantageous marriages."

"Like the Malfoys," Hermione said. "Don't think I don't know the family history, Lucius. Draco was free enough about discussing it in the presence of those of us not worthy to scrape the soles of his boots, I assure you."

"It is a pity that your Gryffindor nature does not extend to forgiveness as readily as it does to courage," Lucius jabbed, picking up her hand to kiss it to soothe the sting of his words. "That was a compliment, dear, do take it as such, I beg you," when her eyes flashed at him. "Now, you are correct. We have a very complex set of equations which we have used with great success for the past thirty generations."

"Would these equations have formed the springboard for Jessamine's work?" Hermione asked.

"Some of them, darling. You don't think I would hand away the family secret so easily, do you? Notwithstanding the wizarding world's imminent collapse, there was no reason to divulge it to anyone outside the family. Now that you are a member of the family, I will share them with you. But that is for England, Hermione—here, we need to discover exactly what my French relations have shared with other pureblood families. In particular, I need to know if they have let their loose lips wander beyond the borders of this dear country, perhaps reaching ears that are less inclined to keep such things confined to the relatively innocuous practice of keeping strong magic alive and well in the family tree."

"That is why Draco did not marry Pansy Parkinson," Hermione said with a sudden flash of insight, and Lucius nodded.

"A completely unsuitable arrangement. Narcissa nudged him toward Astoria. Daphne's numbers were not quite as favorable, and fortunately for us the pair of them hit it off immediately and it made for a smooth contract."

"That is so despicably cold-hearted of you. What if Draco had fallen in love with someone unsuitable? Would you really have pressed him into a loveless marriage simply to maintain your strong bloodlines?" Hermione's voice was raised slightly, and she was struck with how very differently Lucius Malfoy viewed relationships to herself.

"How quickly you leap to the worst possible conclusion," Lucius said. "It's not a good reflection of your own character, that."

Hermione hissed an indrawn breath at the sting of that observation, and Lucius took advantage of her temporarily stunned brain to pull her closer to suck and then kiss her neck, leaving a love bite.

"I knew it was wise to marry you, Hermione… you get delectably flushed when you are angry with me. It's worth provoking you to see it."

"You are despicable, Lucius Malfoy!" Hermione said, pushing his head back so she could give him the full effect of her glare.

"You are mostly charming, and occasionally damned annoying. Fortunately, I like that about you—as you like that about me," Lucius replied smoothly. "Imagine how bored you'd be if we agreed on everything." He was busily unzipping her dress, his hands skillfully kneading her shoulders as he pressed more kisses on her neck and shoulders.

"I'm not forgetting this conversation," Hermione protested with her remaining conscious brain cells.

"I'm counting on it, sweet. But it _is_ our honeymoon…"


	13. A Toxic Tea

**I'm sorry it has taken so long to get this next bit up. I have been very busy with work and I have not had time to finish this chapter until today. Exam season will do that.**

**This story does seem to be pulling in more detail than I had thought it would, but I am liking how it is developing. I loved all the marvelous reviews for the last chapter! A few have asked about another site, with an extended version of this story. I am not planning to do that. Keeping up with one version of the story is enough for me, although I thank you for the implied compliments. I think I will stick to 'sexy' rather than 'salacious' at this point in my development as a writer. But you are very kind to say I could do it. :)**

**Please let me know what you think of this next wrinkle. The next chapter will have us meeting the infamous Bertrand, and we'll also hear from Draco. Hmmm, what could be going on in the homefront? Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Only the plot is mine, I gain nothing from this. Thank JKR for Harry Potter!**

* * *

The next morning Hermione was considering how to broach the subject of her career with Lucius again while they were eating breakfast. Before she could speak, an odd looking small bird landed on the silver plunge handle of the French press, a tiny scrap of parchment roll tied to its leg.

"Why on earth is a nightjar perched on the coffee?" Hermione asked as Lucius removed the miniscule scrap of parchment and peered closely at the equally infinitesimal script thereon.

"Bedell wasted no time in throwing us into the shit," Lucius announced, meeting Hermione's eyes with his. They were quicksilver today, reflecting the rapidity of his thoughts. "It is from my great aunt, Thérèse Borgia Malfaille. She wishes to meet you."

His gaze was thoughtful as he looked at her, and if he felt any apprehension about the matter, he hid it well.

"Borgia? As in Venice and poisons?" Hermione's eyebrow quirked northward in an eerie facsimile of Lucius' own expression, and he smothered a smirk at the quick influence.

"The very same, darling. I suspect Bedell has poisoned her ear quite viciously regarding your muddy heritage and your disgusting displays of affection."

"Because of course you'd never snog your wife in public," Hermione said disparagingly, and he ignored her.

"Yes, you are not nearly repressed enough," Lucius said calmly, and Hermione could not tell whether he meant it sarcastically or not, because his attention was held by the paper he was holding. "Would you like to read the paper? Personally I think they did not capture the full spirit of the occasion, but Skeeter is as always inclined to put the worst possible spin…"

"Give me that!" Hermione demanded, easily pulling the day old Daily Prophet from his grasp as he let her peruse the front page spread on their wedding.

"How do they have a picture?" Hermione seethed, watching a moving photo of herself and Lucius twirl around the dance floor, stopping at a particularly hot moment before he dragged her from the floor. Her eyes flicked through the slyly worded article in which Skeeter intimated that a lust potion "must have been involved" and that the small number of guests at the wedding "reflected, at best, the indifference of the groom to his wife's less than stellar heritage, and at worst a non-so-subtle insult to her research that had led him to this fall from perfection."

"That bitch! That's it, I'm reporting her as an unregistered Animagus!" Hermione said hotly, and Lucius quirked a brow.

"Mmmm, keeping secrets my dear? First lesson: secrets are only valuable as long as they are still secret. Ms. Skeeter registered herself as an Animagus over a year ago. If your information is outdated, it is useless."

Hermione ignored him as she finished reading the article, another huff of outrage escaping her lips. She looked up at Lucius as she said, "She hints that it is only because I've been sleeping with you for years that you took any interest in my work and 'sponsored' me in the Ministry! This is outrageous!"

Her eyes were flashing with more than simple outrage. Lucius perceived that his darling wife had a latent penchant for revenge that had been awakened easily by the petty witch's allegations. He found it sexy, and his smirk told her so. Hermione caught the flash of salacious humor on his face and took a deep breath before she asked, "Well? What are you prepared to do about it?"

"Do? Do you expect me to ignore the fact that her smutty piece suits our purposes admirably? I intend to do nothing. Let her vituperations find a ready home in ticklish ears and lazy brains ready to accept her insinuations. I care not, and neither should you."

"It's an insult to my good name!" Hermione retorted hotly, and Lucius claimed her full attention with his piercing stare.

"It's nothing more than those who hate you already think," Lucius replied calmly. "There is nothing to be done to change their opinion—and do you really want to try? After all, it's not as if you have been courting their good opinion?"

His supercilious tone was made more annoying by the fact that she knew he was right.

"Will this not have a poor effect on your relations here?" Hermione asked finally in a frigid tone that affected boredom as she crisply snapped the paper and set it aside, instead drawing the French paper closer to read their headline. Tamer, but still infuriatingly salacious and laden with Mudblood innuendo. She burned it with a quick flick of her wand, which Lucius found amusing, but there was still the matter of Thérèse to deal with.

"They are already inclined to think poorly of you. However, they also know how cunning we are in general, so they suspect several layers of deeper motivations behind my marrying you. They are perfectly aware that I could have avoided doing so had I wished it—as are you." Lucius stopped to fix his wife with a look that perfectly conveyed how much they were on the same page in that regard—"But they want to figure out what those motives are. Bedell was the first, paltry pass. When we move to Paris the day after tomorrow I do not doubt that Bertrand will be quick to pounce. No, what is more interesting is that Thérèse wants to meet your for herself. And meet you she will, before Bertrand has an opportunity to grill you in the incestuous manner for which he is well known. What have you brought with you that is suitable to wear to an afternoon tea?"

Lucius was standing at her place so quickly, his hand waiting patiently for her own to draw her from her chair, that Hermione had unconsciously placed her hand in his before she realized she had not finished her breakfast.

"Leave it. We can get something for lunch in Paris. I suspect whatever you have brought with you is insupportable for such an occasion. Hold on." Lucius wrapped his arms around her securely, rendering his instruction unnecessarily duplicative as he whisked them to a quiet side street adjacent to the wizarding equivalent of Rue Saint Honoré. It was in fact tucked alongside that venerable fashion district, although Hermione did not know the difference as her purse had not extended to either the Muggle designers on the other side nor their Wizard equivalents. She briefly got a glimpse of the façade of a fashion house, Émettre, as Lucius pulled her inside with his ineffable calm and hauteur.

"Ah, Colette, so pleasant to see you. My new wife requires a tea dress, please—something ready to wear, and perhaps we can discuss a few items to be delivered tomorrow as well." Lucius delivered this in perfect French, and the simpering statuesque witch with striking auburn hair bowed solicitously and waved her hands, which elicited a flurry of house elves and lesser clerks plying them with beverages and bringing forth garments for Hermione to view.

"My many congratulations on your marriage, Monsieur Malfoy! And you are so beautifully naïve, Madame Malfoy—it will be a delight to offer you only the most exclusive designs, perfectly suited to your charms."

Lucius nodded as if the perfectly insincere compliments were only the necessary accompaniments to their presence, and Hermione realized that of course they were. There was nothing sincere about how people treated one another in this social circle, apparently. She considered only the colors before her, and selected four dresses with pleasing shades. Lucius added another six, and he pressed a diffident kiss on her hand when two of the clerks urged her back to the fitting rooms so she could try on the garments.

"I want to see them all, Hermione," Lucius called out clearly as she allowed herself to be led away, and she had to bite her tongue. As if she couldn't decide for herself what suited her!

She tried on the first dress, a deep teal that complimented her skin tone. The color was lovely, but the bateau neckline did nothing for her, and the skirt was a few inches too short, making her legs appear squat instead of slim. She had already decided to discard it when Lucius appeared behind her, causing her to jump.

"Hmmm. Excellent color but abominable neckline for you—and the skirt doesn't help," Lucius commented, then continued, "I am perfectly aware that you were not going to come out in every dress, wife. However, you forget that this is a Wizarding establishment. Tailleur!"

Lucius' voice produced an instantaneous response, as an elf appeared, its makeshift garment well tailored even though it was put together from what was clearly a remnant from a cloth bolt, a large jerk-in clearly visible in the fabric for all that it was of good quality.

"The neckline needs to be changed, and lengthen the skirt by two inches if you please," Lucius commanded, and Hermione watched as the elf brought its own magic to bear on the garment, seamlessly stretching the skirt while the neckline folded itself into a jewel neckline. The alterations were simple, but the garment now flattered her figure in a manner that hinted at her curves without displaying them.

"We'll take it. Next, please," Lucius ordered, and the tailor bowed and stepped out so Hermione could change into the next dress, this one a berry color.

"Are you always so demanding?" Hermione asked, meeting his eyes in the mirror of the changing room, which was practically the size of her old living room. She knew the answer already and so did he.

"That was quite a waste of breath, don't you agree?" Lucius asked, speeding up the process with his wand. "We have exactly one hour left to spend here, and then I am going to give you a crash course on my dear Aunt Thérèse. We are having tea with her at four."

It was for the best that such a disgraceful topic as price was never discussed in fashion houses such as Émettre. Hermione would have been apoplectic to realize that the price of the teal dress was more than half a year's rent for her old flat, and Lucius would have been annoyed to have had to explain the necessity of the accoutrements in order to face his dragon of a great aunt on top of explaining how he had found it best to handle her in the past. Of course it was a gamble, but Lucius was confident that Hermione would rise to the challenge admirably.

After discussing the necessity of a few more integral wardrobe pieces and assuring himself that the house had gotten a good match to her skin tone and measurements, Lucius acquiesced to a tentative order for a mix of twenty more pieces, which had Colette swooning in an agreeable manner. Of course he meant to spread their favors around to the best houses, but Hermione's youth lent itself more to Émettre than some of the others. He already knew where they would go for the more daring ensembles necessary for balls and the more conservative pieces required for appearances at the Ministry and other such sordid business affairs. By the time he was done with her, Hermione would be the Wizarding equivalent of the Duchess of Cambridge, which was perfectly fitting for his wife.

"That's suitable for this afternoon, keep it on," Lucius instructed as he wordlessly popped his head back into Hermione's fitting room as she finished donning another dress. The hem stopped just below her knees, the skirt floating freely to the nipped waistline. The cap sleeves were summery and fresh in the painted georgette, the pattern subtle but nothing so prosaic as flowers. Instead a cacophony of birds in a subtle array of charcoal dipped pastels floated across a diaphanous background that was lazily colored here and there. Again Hermione felt like she was wearing a piece of art, and it suited her personality to a tee.

"Do you ever bother to knock?" Hermione asked, the annoyance in her tone causing Lucius to pause.

"And miss you in déshabillée?" His expression was mocking but his eyes were hot, and Hermione felt the flush creeping across her cheeks.

"I hate shopping," she pronounced, and Lucius stole behind her to feather delicate kisses from the smidgen of exposed shoulder up to her ear.

"Consider it a form of shield, and be thankful that one of us is adept at it," he said in a manner that was half soothing and half mocking.

"You do realize that I hate all of this pretense," she said, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

"And yet, how delightful it is to see you realize how very necessary it is," Lucius said in a manner that left no doubt of its intentional pain. "If Thérèse doesn't have your guts for garters in thirty minutes I will be very much surprised, my dear."

His eyes were mocking and Hermione stiffened, as he knew she would. "Care to wager on that?" she asked bitingly, her eyes flashing in a charming if imprudent manner.

"And what would you be willing to offer, hmm? I already have your delectable body at my whim, I wonder what else you would be willing to lay before me."

"If I win, you never again suggest that my _place_ is at home, waiting to serve as your arm candy or stupid hostess. You agree that I have the right to continue working as long as I choose, in whatever area I choose. But I want to be clear on the terms, Lucius. I am betting that I can hold my own with the she dragon."

Lucius' eyes flashed wordlessly and she could see him turning the conditions over in his mind.

"That is quite a lot to demand and concede, my dear. I would further specify that she has to _like_ you. What on earth could you offer in return that would make me willing to accept such a bargain?"

"I would openly support your efforts to rein in the intermingling with the Muggle world," Hermione said, flicking her eyes sideways to meet his as he circled around.

"Oh?" Lucius pulled her closer at the waist, studying his wife. "And what would make you so keen to reverse such a hard fought and long held view?"

Hermione opened her mouth to speak but Lucius placed a finger on her mouth to shut her up. "Ah, ah. I would rather savor this, if you please. I rather like the recognition that perhaps I haven't been quite the _thoughtless bastard_ you thought me to be. I accept your terms. I will still tell you about her, of course, because I gave my word to do so. But bear in mind, dear, I will not help you once we are there. You must win this on your own."

His words were soft, but they were both aware that the stakes were high. "I don't think you're a heartless bastard," Hermione said softly as he took her hand.

"I know."

* * *

"The most important thing to know about Thérèse is that she considers herself the head of the family," Lucius snorted, which led Hermione to the correct conclusion that Thérèse was probably not the only family member who considered herself thus. "She has several of the younger siblings under her thumb, although Bertrand does pay her court from time to time for his own purposes."

"And do you pay her court from time to time for your own purposes?" Hermione asked, a glint in her eye which Lucius could not fail to appreciate.

"But of course, my pet. She is the family's equivalent of Yasmin—knows everyone, knows all of their business, and only shares it with those she deems worthy of the affection." Hermione thought it telling that information was considered a form of affection to the Malfoys.

"Somehow I doubt she knows everything—otherwise she would probably interfere more with some of the family's schemes. Surely she has her own opinion about whatever machinations you all indulge in on both sides of the Channel." Hermione's observation was keen but too like a Gryffindor, and Lucius told her so.

"She is a Borgia. That means she only intervenes subtly, and only when she is assured that it is worth her while. The challenge before us is to make her believe it worth her while to do so on our behalf regarding the family arithmancy."

"You do realize that she does, in fact, run your family if that is the case," Hermione pointed out sweetly, and Lucius' eyes narrowed slightly.

"Only when she knows what is going on—which is questionable at times. Yes, she may know, but she is very good at bluffing."

"You're not telling me anything new then. If I didn't know better I'd say you don't want me to win our bet," Hermione said. Lucius said nothing, but the amused flicker told her she was right. "If you're quite through trying to make me chase my own tail, perhaps we can have a snack before tea. Somehow I doubt I will have much of an appetite."

* * *

"Your hair is dreadful."

Hermione laughed out loud at the insolent woman. "You are perfectly correct. It is a pleasure to meet you at last, Madame."

"Lucius, what on earth possessed you to marry such a creature? You have been so good at avoiding lust potions—clearly you are going senile. I understand she is your subordinate at that dreadful excuse you call a Ministry…standards are obviously very lax!" Thérèse allowed Lucius to place two kisses on her papery cheeks. Her hair was quite white and amazingly shiny, doubtless the result of some very expensive beauty potions. She had to be in the middle of her second century

Lucius' face was full of the appropriate hauteur, but Hermione was well prepared to give as good as she got. "It's unfortunate that common courtesy is apparently so uncommon among the upper classes. I had expected superior manners to demonstrate the benefits of such supposedly superior breeding."

"But you are a commoner, my dear. You would not recognize superior manners if they apparently smacked you in the face," Thérèse replied calmly, taking her seat so she could preside over the tea.

"Ah, yes. I forget this is France…as Honore de Balzac observed, 'Manners are the hypocrisy of a nation.'" Donning an expression of complete indifference even as her barb hit home, Hermione sat gracefully on a chair, crossing her legs at the ankles and waiting to see where Lucius would decide to sit. Lucius, on the other hand, was well aware of his role, and chose to prop himself casually against the elegant marble fireplace. By not taking a seat himself, he left his position neutral. Hermione had expected as much.

"Tea," Thérèse said and began to extend the cup, but Hermione was too quick. "Milk and one sugar please."

Thérèse was forced to add a skinflint amount of sugar and milk to the tea instead of handing the unadulterated cup to Hermione, which would have been a superbly dealt insult if Hermione had allowed it.

"Would you like to prepare your husband's?" Thérèse asked slyly, expecting that Hermione would not know how Lucius took his tea.

"I would not wish to deprive you of your _privilege_, Madame," Hermione replied, taking the faintest sip of her tea. "Lovely blend."

A loud sniff was heard, then Lucius accepted his cup and sipped it. He decided to take a hand in the conversation since his wife had adroitly dealt with the insults thus far. "We ran into Bedell the other day—but I suppose he ran right over to tell you, dear little lapdog that he is."

Thérèse eyed her great-nephew regally, then nodded. "Indeed, I sent him. I wanted to verify for myself that you had agreed to sink to such unplumbed—"

"Unsullied—" Hermione murmured loud enough to hear as she sipped her tea again—

"—depths," Thérèse finished, ignoring Hermione entirely. "Bertrand thought it quite classless of you, Lucius. Quite frankly, I'm inclined to agree with him."

"And yet, you still invited me to tea, along with my 'classless' wife," Lucius replied, his tone collected and his visage calm. Thérèse had given away little, it was time to poke the viper a bit and see what she did.

"Merely to see exactly how much stink you have thrown yourself into, I assure you," she retorted firmly.

"'Politeness is the flower of humanity.' Perhaps that is the stink you discern, given your dreadful lack of it," Hermione observed, raising her eyes to meet her husband's.

"'Ask the young, they know everything! '" Thérèse snapped in return. "As if a Muggle moralist has anything useful to offer!"

"And yet, you've read him extensively to be able to quote him so freely," Hermione said sweetly, and Lucius had to stop himself from choking on his mouthful of tea.

"I read _Le Figaro_ as well, young lady, but it does not follow that I consider it anything other than tripe," Thérèse said smartly, then straightened from her slouch. "Are you pregnant?"

"I beg your pardon?" Hermione said, and Lucius set his cup down on the table.

"A bit premature for such speculations, Aunt," he said, popping one of the tiny lime tarts in his mouth as he did so. "I find it interesting that Bertrand is taking such an active interest in my marital prospects. Pray tell, has he deigned to visit you for something other than his annual visit in September?"

Lucius knew he had struck gold with this, as Thérèse nodded her head. "In fact he did, you clever boy. Bertrand has always been quite self-sustaining, and he was too proud to approach you, naturally. Apparently he is claiming some trouble with his business interests, caused by all the kafuffle in your adopted country." She waved her wand lazily and Hermione coughed and redirected the hex with the wand that was at her fingertips, shattering a particularly ugly cherub sculpture. She had removed it from her hair and replaced it so quickly that Lucius would have missed it if he had not been watching his wife.

"That was a Falconet!" Thérèse shrieked in disapproval, and Hermione replied, "Perhaps then if you cannot control your magic you might set your wand aside when in polite company."

"Really, Lucius!" Thérèse's eyes shot to her nephew, and he graciously repaired the sculpture.

"As I was saying, Thérèse, I cannot imagine any _good_ reason for Bertrand's interest in my marriage. He is incapable of mismanaging his affairs to such an extent as that, but we both know you are already aware of that. I merely mentioned it because it would be so…" Lucius paused as if seeking the right words, "…_unfortunate_ should his activities result in the involvement of the English Ministry. We are all aware of how the vicissitudes of societal changes can be so very _trying_ for all in our family. I would hate to see such changes ripple across the Channel, you know."

"Indeed," was all Thérèse said.

"Thank you for the tea," Hermione said, smoothly rising to her feet. Lucius had planted his barb and she had done the best she could under the circumstances. While she was not confident she had won the bet on this round, neither had she lost it. The outcome of their wager could remain suspended, or, as she imagined was more likely, she and Lucius would haggle as to the concessions granted by each party from the first skirmish.

"I have not dismissed you, you impudent witch," Thérèse said coldly, but Lucius intervened.

"We have another engagement for dinner. I will, of course, keep you apprised of any tidbits concerning Malfaille dealings…I expect we will hear from Bertrand when we move on to Paris." Lucius smoothly kissed his aunt's hand and nodded respectfully.

"Hmmm," she huffed, eyeing Hermione with suspicion and perhaps a tiny hint of respect. "I do hope your harpy of a wife does not affect you too badly, Lucius; but you have made your bed, you must lie in it!"

"Indeed, madame," Lucius intoned, a mischievous smirk at the corner of his mouth.

"It was pleasant to meet you," Hermione offered coolly, accepting Lucius' arm.

"I cannot say the same, hussy. I hope your marriage, if you can call it that, is dissolved when Lucius sees reason." Thérèse said sharply. Hermione could not resist one more well-aimed barb.

"Ah, but madame, 'We cannot always oblige; but we can always speak obligingly.'"


	14. Unwelcome Guests

**Good evening! I am caught up in work at last and the rest of this chapter poured out of me today. Work stress should be easing for a bit by mid-week so perhaps another chapter by Friday. I wanted to do a few more personalized review responses:**

**Alucardfan: thanks for the compliment! I'm glad you enjoy my writing.**

**arabellagrace: Yes, Lucius is a master at changing the subject, as well as double entendres. I think that's why we love him so.**

**bushyhairedamericangirlnerd: Glad I'm giving ya something different! **

**butterflykiss: Thanks for posting a review! I love hearing that someone is enjoying the story. :)**

**articcat & KEZZ: You both love every chapter! Thanks. ;)**

**viola: Indeed I think Hermione is wise to recognize her education is an asset to use like a scalpel as appropriate.**

**bownbey: Hermione is nobody's doormat, I think we all agree. She is cautious but self-aware. I think this will become more evident as the story progresses, just as it would unfold for a young woman in her situation as she gains confidence in her changed circumstances.**

**zeeksmom: They are very well-suited...how long will it take them to realize it? ;)**

**AlesiaG: You always pick up on the details...hehe, I love that in your reviews! Yes, that was deliberate...Freudian slip?**

**SilentLioness: Trust issues! What kind of a roadblock and problem for this couple? Yep, could be big...stay tuned!**

**ruby: you will love this chapter as well then. **

**dragoon-gal: As a professor, I sternly tell you to STUDY. As a writer, I humbly say thank you and "tee hee" for distracting you!**

**Well the plot thickens, as they say...let's read about the end of this honeymoon! As always, I only own the plot and thank JKR for the wonderful world in which to play. Please read and review to let me know what you think!**

* * *

Once they were well shod of the house, Lucius apparated them back to the country house.

"What a horrid woman. She is as I imagine Dolores Umbridge would be if she possessed a shred of intellect." Hermione had to crane her head to look at her husband, as she was still held tight in his arms.

"You did not win the bet, dear," Lucius said, his eyes flashing with amusement because she was not far wrong in her assessment of Thérèse.

"Neither did I lose it," she retorted, her eyebrow lifting in challenge. "This is not a bet to be easily won or lost at one tea, and you well know it."

Lucius tilted his head in acknowledgement of the point, but there had to be some concession he could wrangle from her. "Agreed. I will say you held your own admirably, although Voltaire? Really, I should dock points for your over-reliance on quotations. You owe some sort of forfeit for failing to charm her."

"It made my point, which is that I am well-educated, and it is possible for a Muggle-born to hold her own in intelligent and polite conversation despite extreme provocation. And _you_ owe me a forfeit for acknowledging that I did hold my own with that harpy."

"Mmmm…what forfeit would you demand, witch?" Lucius asked, his hand idly wandering south from her waist.

Hermione was undeterred. "I demand that you concede that I will return to work after the baby is born."

"That is tantamount to over half the bet, given that you will spend more time being a mother than being pregnant. No, it is too much."

"I disagree. Not only was she not able to embarrass me, which was clearly one of her goals, she was also incapable of ignoring me. Furthermore, she was annoyed enough with my remarks that she tried to hex me—she is definitely not able to claim indifference or even apathy. That is far closer to gaining her respect."

"Hmmm, respect. What an interesting concept you have of what respect means. But let us address the subject which you would rather ignore—that of _your_ forfeit, pet. You will tell me _why_ you are willing to support my efforts to restrict intermingling between Wizard and Muggle."

Hermione let Lucius take her hand and draw her up the stairs. It was obvious what he had in mind, but Hermione was not averse to an evening spent in bed. However, the forfeits had to be settled first, otherwise he would have too much power in the aftermath. He was disgustingly clear headed even after several hours of lovemaking, and she had realized she was not.

"I will if you agree to my returning to work."

Lucius stopped running his hand up her skirt, his fingers tantalizingly close to the edge of her thigh high stockings. "Part-time only. And only until the Department of Magical Research hires additional qualified genetic researchers—then we will readdress the issue."

"You mean we will argue about it again," Hermione interjected, raising her eyes to meet his even though her hands continued unbuttoning his shirt. She pressed a soft kiss and then lick on his pectoral muscle, the small hiss of his breath a pleasing sign of her effect on him.

"Perhaps…a lot can change in a few months, Hermione," Lucius said, the sincerity in his tone grabbing her attention in a way that few things could.

"So we're agreed?" she asked, feathering kisses and licks across his collarbone, her impatient fingers shoving his shirt to the side.

"Oh yes, I agree..." Lucius drawled, pulling on her hair and causing it to spill out of her chignon. "Your forfeit afterward, dear…what on earth are you wearing?" His fingers had crept upward to discover only the smooth flesh of her bottom, and he gripped her and pulled her close.

"Thong," Hermione whispered in his ear before she kissed it.

"Decadent, delicious witch," Lucius said softly, claiming her mouth for a thorough kiss and tasting. "I'd like to see that. Now." He turned her around and flipped up the skirt of her dress, then moaned in approval at the high scallops of lace. "Oh yes, wife, I like your taste very much."

* * *

"Now, why are you willing to support a tightening of regulations for mixing between Muggle and Wizard?" Lucius asked, stirring Hermione from the blowsy come-down from her fourth spectacular orgasm.

"It's utterly insupportable that you could even think of such things after that kind of spectacular performance," Hermione groused, her cheek pressed against his chest. Lucius smiled and dropped a kiss on her hairline.

"Practice, darling. Pillow talk is far more entertaining when it's substantive."

"Only you would consider the aftermath of sex as the perfect opportunity to glean information," she complained pettily, and Lucius kissed her fingertips as she pulled herself to a sitting position, summoning a silk bedrobe to wear. He settled himself against the headboard next to her as she was clearly getting ready to talk, his fingers threading easily through her own.

"I think we both know that history is full of such examples, but I will not be distracted. Pay up, pet."

"I am concerned about the genetic research that is being carried out in the Muggle world. I am not certain I have identified all of the magical genes, but it is something that could be duplicated by a Muggle researcher. And there is already an incredible amount of genetic information being amassed about Muggles. Some countries are pursuing extensive databases—and that information could be harvested for magical purposes." Hermione's expression was worried and Lucius could see that his wife was finally bringing her considerable intellect to bear on the consequences of her genetic work instead of the work itself.

"Indeed. It is only the complete ignorance of the subject on the part of most wizards which is staving that off at present," Lucius observed, and Hermione's eyes flew to meet his own. "You cannot pretend to be surprised that my mind has already gone there and past it, woman, given what I said to you in Hogsmeade Wood."

Hermione felt cold and snuggled into Lucius' side despite the irritation of his tone. He took pity on her and brought her securely into his arms again, pressing one, then two, kisses on her as a form of reassurance. "Let us see what tomorrow brings. I don't doubt that we have at least one more meeting with an odious relation to endure in Paris before we go back home."

* * *

Hermione did not recall much from her only trip to Paris, which had taken place on a summer holiday when she was eight. She remembered lots of museums and buildings, but they had all blurred together somewhat, and she had not gotten any of the magical history that accompanied them. Touring them again with Lucius was a completely different experience, as he was full of amusing historical footnotes and explanations which accounted for some oddities in the Muggle history books.

The Malfoy townhouse was located in a decadent wizarding neighborhood (of course), and Hermione found the décor to be dreadfully ostentatious. Lucius perceived her wrinkled nose at one opulent epergne that was a dreadful mix of bronze and marble.

"The house was decorated by my grandmother. We never spent much time here, so Narcissa never took it on as a project, really. Our business interests are quite firmly fixed in England."

"Don't pee in your family's pond," Hermione remarked, and Lucius replied, "Naturally."

"Master, this came for you while you were out," the house elf Essy said, holding out a crisp piece of folded linen, a black wax seal with an embossed wasp sealing its envelope. Lucius slit the envelope with the proferred silver letter opener, then perused the contents briefly.

"Bertrand." Hermione's tone was flat, the invitation expected.

"Mmm. Apparently we are invited to a cocktail party. This evening, so no time to prepare you, which is obviously his aim."

Hermione started to point out that they could simply decline the invitation, but realized that Lucius' cousin would only perceive that as a sign of weakness. Instead she remarked, "Do I really require such preparation, Lucius?"

He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. "Of course not, pet. But let's let him think that for a short while, hmm?"

* * *

Hermione had to admit that the cocktails being served at Bertrand's little dinner party packed quite a bit of a punch. After Lucius had assured her that pregnancies were affected very differently in the wizarding world, she had been able to relax about enjoying the fruit of their vineyard. This, however, felt an entirely different level. Bertrand's caterers had a mixologist on staff to produce decadent cocktails using liqueurs that Hermione had never heard of before. She was nursing some type of coffee vodka based drink after feeling the effects of a tropical cocktail of some sort, and feeling a bit adrift. Lucius had stuck pretty close for the first hour of the socializing, but he had been pulled away with business discussions. She was quite obviously being snubbed, but she had not realized it long enough to adopt her habitual defensiveness before their host materialized at her elbow.

"Miss Granger…I beg your pardon, Madame Malfoy. I knew Cissy quite well, you will forgive me if it takes time to accustom myself to your recent marriage," Bertrand said apologetically, just the right touch of practiced whimsy in his expression.

"Naturally I understand, Monsieur Malfaille. It has only been three years since Narcissa was murdered in cold blood. I suppose to some a lifetime would not be long enough for my husband to mourn her death." Hermione was feeling the effects of cocktails, but she was not stupid.

"Well, it would be one thing if he had fallen in love, of course. You pardon me for speaking frankly?" Bertrand raised a perfectly sculpted dark eyebrow, his grey eyes providing the evidence of the Malfoy genes. Hermione nodded wordlessly and he continued, "But you of course expect that many families are waiting to see what happens from all of these forced marriages and genetic babble. The worry is that choice will be eliminated entirely for generations."

He paused again to sidle closer to Hermione, as if taking her into his confidence, when really he wanted to be able to observe the microeffects of his barbs. "There are some who claim this is all a ruse to viciously suppress the pureblood families."

"They may very well think that, but I couldn't possibly comment," Hermione offered through tight lips. There was no point in offering a reasoned defense of the Ministry's position or her own research—this was someone who was convinced her purposes were as base and cunning as their own. It was the lens through which they viewed the world, and she was not foolish enough to attempt to dislodge it.

"Oh, but I wouldn't expect such a savvy witch as yourself to issue any sort of claims regarding the subject, Madame!" Bertrand's expression of surprise was perfectly feigned and perfectly staged. Hermione had noticed that several others in the room were paying close attention to their conversation, and doubtless he would spin his expression to his own ends before the evening was ended.

"Then I wonder why you bother to take the trouble of mentioning it at all," Hermione responded, sipping her cocktail and affixing a perfectly polite and apparently warm smile to her face. They both knew better, but it would be difficult for him to spin her affability and they both knew it.

"It must be difficult to face such an elite society, Madame. After all, it's hardly within the realm of your experience, and my cousin is hardly the patient sort. I do hope you haven't let your feathers be ruffled by your treatment by some of my peers this evening," Bertrand observed, taking a sip from his own glass. Hermione did not fail to note that he said they were _his_ peers, and not _hers_.

"Have I been treated differently?" Hermione asked with apparent innocence. "I merely observed a room full of people who are saying one thing and meaning entirely another, and avoiding speaking to those with whom they are uncertain to emerge victorious." She paused as if the thought had just struck her. "In point of fact, Bertrand, I'm rather surprised that you decided to approach me at all, given that context!" She sipped her cocktail and looked at him pointedly, and was rewarded with a subtle flush across his cheeks. She thought he might be about to strike her when Lucius reappeared at her side and interjected himself into the conversation.

"Ah, there you are pet. I believe it is time for us to be off. Do excuse us Bertrand, but of course you remember that this our honeymoon." Lucius placed his hand on the small of Hermione's back, well aware that her well-framed derriere had been the subject of more than one idle speculation as to the reasons for their hasty matrimony.

"Thank you so much for inviting us," Hermione said sweetly, setting her glass on a passing tray.

Lucius felt his ring heat and cursed violently under his breath. He grabbed Hermione's arm and she cut off her farewell abruptly, leaving Bertrand glaring daggers at them as he dragged her off into the night and apparated them instantly to their Paris house.

* * *

"Pack everything immediately. We are going back to England in five minutes."

"What's going on?" Hermione asked, but Lucius shoved her toward the stairs.

"I'll explain in a minute. I've heard from Draco, I need you to make sure you have everything you need, can you do that for me?"

The shock of Lucius' severe expression had cut through any haze Hermione felt from Bertrand's potent cocktails, and she nodded. "Of course. Is there anything in particular you need?"

"No pet, just be quick," Lucius said, and patted her bottom as she went up the stairs. He turned and went into the office, a dark expression overtaking his face as soon as he was sure she was on her way.

Not ten seconds later, Draco's head appeared in the fireplace. "The wards on the Manor have been attacked. I managed to get him in a full body bind and disarm him. He's under Astoria's wand right now."

"We'll be right there. Put him in the dungeon," Lucius said coldly, then snapped his fingers to summon Essy as Draco's head vanished from the flames. "After we leave, go to the country house and pack anything there. We will be gone for some time and I want everything of a personal nature removed from both houses."

The house elf nodded anxiously and disapparated with a subtle pop.

"What's happened?"

Lucius turned and saw that Hermione had changed out of her cocktail dress and was wearing a plain but elegant tunic and flowing pants, suitable for travel.

"Someone attempted to breech the wards on the Manor. We need to figure out what they were after. You left your work at the Manor, yes?"

Hermione nodded, a weight settling in her stomach like a lead balloon. At that moment Essy snapped back in, their luggage assembled in record time. "Yes. Let me think of what they could have been hoping to get…"

"Thank you Essy," Lucius said, then pulled the brass key from his pocket and tapped it with his wand, murmuring the portkey incantation. "We can continue this discussion later. Grab hold."

Hermione felt the familiar pull as the portkey whisked them home. Her brain whirled with the implications of the attempted theft. What did she have in her briefcase…the methodology for finding the gene, the progress on the epigenetic regulators, a subset of genetic profiles to use for base studies with arithmancy…

Lucius barked, "Twigs!" as soon as they popped into the foyer, tossing the key to the house elf and shedding his outer robes. "Madame will require dinner, as we have missed ours. I will be speaking with Draco for some time, but may require something later. Please see that I'm not disturbed."

"Yes, master!" The house elf popped out again, and Lucius hugged Hermione briefly and kissed her forehead before he pulled back to look at her.

"I need you to go through your work. Pull out anything that could be of interest. I will talk to Draco, then we can go through it together and see if we can pinpoint exactly what they were after."

Hermione nodded, her mind already working through the permutations. "Where should I set up?"

"In my study, pet. I don't care what you do to the desk, just give yourself enough space to see any patterns."

Hermione nodded and left to fetch her case. Lucius shook his head. _Muggleborn_…he mused. A pureblood would have summoned a house elf to fetch it. He shrugged…it was possible she had placed specific enchantments on the case, a prudent and sensible move under the circumstances. He needed to give her the benefit of the doubt more often. His thoughts took a darker turn and he dismissed his new wife forcibly from his mind. There was the matter of the wizard in the dungeon. Scowling, he made his way down, finding Draco waiting for him, an unconscious heap the offal representing himself as the wizard in question at his feet.

"I'm afraid he was coming 'round again, and I had to stun him," Draco offered lazily, performing a wordless _Levicorpus_ so Lucius could get a good look at the unconscious man's face.

"I don't recognize him," Lucius said after a minute's careful study, meeting Draco's eye.

"That doesn't surprise me. Astoria has put Scorpius to bed and she knows better than to inform Hermione, but my best guess is that you have an hour tops before she thinks to ask about the thief."

"You're right," Lucius said grimly, then rolled up his sleeves. "Wake him."

"Renervate!" A flash of white had the man stirring with a groan, shackles chaining him spread-eagled before he could fully come to. When he did so, his eyes snapped to meet both Malfoys'. His gaze took in the faded Dark Mark on Lucius' forearm, and he sneered defiantly.

"Fallen from grace, you 'ave," the man sneered, his lower class East End accent thick and coarse.

"There's only one here who has fallen," Lucius said, twisting his wand to an angle that pointed downward at the man. "_Crucio!_"

Lucius held the curse for three minutes, the man's frame quaking and pulling violently against his restraints, his screams echoing soundlessly in the well-dampened dungeon. Draco looked away in disgust. Lucius didn't have time to indulge his son's sensibilities, however. He ended the curse, and the man quivered, then spat blood on the floor.

"You 'ave to turn me over to the Aurors eventually, unless you's willin' to give up this fancy lifestyle. Whateva' will they be sayin' about that, I wonder?"

Lucius smiled coldly. "They only check my last ten spells, cretin. Let's see what else makes you scream, shall we? _Sectumsempra!_"

The effects of Severus' curse were immediate and prolific. Draco watched wordlessly, prepared to heal the man when Lucius said so. When the blood loss had gotten to the point where the man was too weak to struggle, Lucius allowed the shackles to fall, the man's body slumping instantly to the floor. He maneuvered him to a sitting position and ruthlessly met the man's eyes, a murmured '_Legilimens!'_ gaining him access immediately to the man's mind. He shoved aside the man's thoughts and mental anguish over the torture, aware that Draco was already working to save the useless piece of shit's life while he rifled through his memories with the precision and speed that had been required under the Dark Lord's service. The wizard who had hired him had paid well and cloaked himself thoroughly, a Confundus charm always in place and plenty of Galleons at the ready to ensure cooperation and assistance with the task. _The genetic profiles_. Something else caught Lucius' eye in his images of the hiring wizard. He couldn't put his finger on it at the moment but knew he would have to revisit it later. Pulling out of the man's mind, he barked, "Firkin! The pensieve!"

The house elf appeared wordlessly with the item, and Lucius pulled his own newly formed memories of the man's mind from his own with a swiftness that belied the precision of his actions. When he was done, he nodded to Draco and wordlessly disapparated as Draco said, "_Obliviate!_"

The next half hour was spent retracing his spells with the portkey, and he was prepared for the 'escape', throwing a few hexes at the would-be thief, who was still stumbling from the effects of the obliviate Draco had easily cast on him. Lucius' mental tally was at 23 spells forward from the _Crucio_, and he nodded to Draco, who nodded back as he thrust his wand skyward to summon the Aurors.

"What the hell is going on?"

Lucius turned to see Hermione emerge from his study. He did a quick check to make sure he didn't have any blood on his shirt, then gestured for her to return to the study, shutting the doors on the scene of Draco with the again unconscious wizard who had foolishly taken on the task of breaking into Malfoy Manor.

"Draco found the prospective thief lurking about the periphery of the property. It was a minor skirmish, but he caught him. He has summoned the Aurors."

"We've been home for over forty minutes. No one in their right mind would have been lurking, Lucius. I demand to know what happened." Hermione's tone was frosty and Lucius knew that Draco had underestimated his wife's intelligence again. He crossed the room and offered her his wand.

"Check it if you doubt me, witch."

Her eyes narrowed as she took in his own clouded grey. "As if you are stupid enough to leave a trail. I know better Lucius. The truth, now!"

Lucius perceived that she would not be put off, and told her briefly that he had only questioned the man before they summoned the Aurors. Naturally he did not mention his methods, but he suspected she already knew to what level he would stoop when it came to protecting his family.

"That was a very foolish thing to do! Your name is already clouded, why would you give them an excuse to suspect you in any of this?" Hermione asked, her voice clenching with a mixture of anger and fear. Lucius walked over to her and gripped her arms firmly.

"Because I could look at his mind, Hermione, and see things that the Aurors won't recognize or understand. And I can't wait for them to pick up more broken pieces and try to put together the puzzle. I can't let it drag on and on without some forward progress."

"And I suppose getting yourself arrested is forward progress?" Hermione's voice was raised, her eyes snapping at him with a degree of passion that was unexpected.

"Would you care, wife?" Lucius asked mercilessly, pressing her weak points without scruples. He knew the witch cared for him, and although it was a low tactic he had only minutes before the Aurors would be demanding to question them both. He had to get her away from the subject of the prospective thief, and focused on the purpose of the theft.

"Damn you to hell, yes, I care!" she retorted hotly, her eyes shutting suddenly to try to prevent the twin tears that squeezed out anyway, to her damnation.

"I will not be arrested, Hermione," Lucius said softly, wiping away the tears with the pads of his thumbs. "Trust me."

Her hot brown eyes met his and he kissed her passionately, his lips moving over hers with reassurance and connection, asserting their bond. The knock at the door startled her, but Lucius clasped her firmly to him and turned his head to call, "Enter!" The Aurors had arrived.


	15. Cooperate or Compete

**Thank you for the reviews! You are all the best! One anonymous reviewer was chastising Hermione for drinking alcoholic drinks-I will draw your attention to the disclaimer that pregnancy is different in the wizarding world, anonymous reviewer. It's magic!**

**zeeksmom I did not mean to infer drugs or Hermione's drink being tampered with-faulty reviewing/editing on my part. I've fixed it now. **

**For those of you wondering what the French relations are up to, that is purposefully murky still! Hehe.**

**Thank you to all the new story followers and faves-welcome aboard! **

**All right, I'm just going to shut up now because it's the middle of the week and I'm tired. Warning: lemon ahead, so if that's not your thing, skip it, mmkay? I may have tipped a bit more toward salacious here, but again, I'm too tired to care. Also, copious science content that is semi-accurate, in what I hope is the best tradition of erudite fiction writers. Read and let me know what you think, please! Thank you!**

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It was Percivel and Thompson again, another pair of Aurors unknown to either of them already talking to Draco in the foyer. There was no sign of the thief, so presumably another pair of Aurors had taken him to the Ministry.

"May we speak to you?" Percivel's tone was business-like and he entered the study briskly as soon as Lucius had moved aside, taking in the paperwork that Hermione had scattered over the desk and suspended along the wall of bookcases. Papers were floating easily and Lucius had no doubt that she could move them around at will, reassembling in whatever pattern fit the thoughts in her head at the time.

"You seem to be drawing quite a lot of attention, Mrs. Malfoy," Thompson said sardonically as he entered the room after his partner. Hermione flushed—it was the first time she had been addressed by her married name, and she realized that everyone at the Ministry would be calling her that from now on. There was no notion of women retaining their maiden names in the wizarding world.

Lucius watched Percivel take idle note of Hermione's work while Thompson looked around the room once then focused his attention on Lucius. Ah, this was clearly the interrogator today.

"How long have you been back from your honeymoon, Mr. Malfoy?"

"We only returned when Draco notified me that there was an attempt to breech the wards."

"I see. And all of this?" Thompson indicated the paperwork with a wave of his hand as Hermione walked over to where Percivel was about to pull down a piece of paper from her invisible peg board.

"Don't touch that," Hermione said frostily. "I'm going through my work to try to determine what the thief could possibly have been after. Clearly it had something to do with my genetic research at the Ministry."

Percivel nodded in brief apology and stepped away from the papers, which Hermione had flipped around with a quick flick of her wand. Lucius' eyes had narrowed and Thompson cleared his throat to regain the elder Malfoy's attention. "Yes, so your son was telling us. How far did he get?"

"I don't know. I wasn't here." Lucius' tone was bored and Thompson exchanged a glance with his partner. "Why are you so convinced that the thief was after something to do with Mrs. Malfoy's work?"

"Oh, I don't know, perhaps the fact that she has been the subject of two attacks?" Lucius' voice was dripping with sarcasm and Thompson changed tack.

"Mrs. Malfoy, do you have in your possession any paperwork that is not duplicated elsewhere? Something that the thief could only get his hands on here?"

Hermione, who had crossed the room to her husband after ensuring nothing of a delicate nature was open to prying eyes, fixed him with a look of disdain. "Do you really think that I'm going to tell you that? Even if I wanted to do so, I think Kingsley Shacklebolt would not take kindly to an Auror asking the Ministry's top researcher to break her wizarding oath, hmm?"

"But you do think that is what the thief was after—something you are working on?" Thompson persisted doggedly.

"_Obviously_," Hermione said, in an imitation that would have done Snape proud. Lucius chuckled to himself and ignored the dark look that Percivel cast his way.

"How was the thief caught?" Percivel asked, his gaze fixed on Lucius.

"I stunned him," Lucius said. "Draco was giving chase, and I helped him. We portkeyed right in front of the house."

"Your wand, please," Percivel asked, and Lucius drew out the eighteen inch wand and flipped it over expertly and without any hesitation.

Thompson was watching Hermione closely and asked, "And did you draw your wand, Mrs. Malfoy?"

"My husband's reflexes were sufficiently fast to not require my help," Hermione said, unsurprised by the mundane spells that were being called forth from Lucius' wand after the stunner. The portkey activation, a few shrinking spells, Accios…Percivel didn't even bother to listen past the eighth spell and flipped the wand back to Lucius. "Thank you."

"Not at all." Lucius inclined his head graciously, and Hermione marveled at the Slytherin-ness of the situation. It was no wonder that nothing ever stuck to the Malfoys, as they were clearly prepared to evade accounting for their actions to anyone else if they could possibly avoid it. It made her slightly uneasy, but the more she got to know Lucius the more she realized that his conduct was bound by a very rigid code of propriety and honor that had little to do with the laws of the land and everything to do with familial ties and the most basic of survival instincts. It was glorified and prettified with the most elegant and charming manner, but at his heart Lucius was very much concerned about himself and his family first. If she wanted to truly know him, she would, as he had said, have to get to know much more about his world, because it was what defined him.

"We'll give you a copy of our report tomorrow, and I'm sure Director Underwood will communicate any findings from our interrogations of the suspect," Thompson offered after a nod from his partner.

"Of course," Lucius bowed his head again slightly, and the Aurors excused themselves from the room. Once the doors closed, Hermione flicked her wand to turn all of her papers around again as Lucius walked to the sideboard to help himself to a firewhiskey. Hermione watched him and demanded, "Well, tell me what you learned at least. I don't want to know _how_, just the _what_, please. I don't think my opinion of you would be helped by any details."

"Probably not," Lucius agreed, a hard edge to his eyes that made Hermione uncomfortably aware of just how Dark her husband could be at times. "He was after the genetic profiles specifically. There was no demand for the methodology from his 'employer', so that probably means that whoever they are, they know how to duplicate your methods."

"Damn," Hermione said quietly, her mind turning over the new information, assessing it. "That's not good. I had hoped it would take someone else a bit longer to figure out exactly where in the genome I've been working, and I've held that information very close to my chest."

"Is there anything in the procedures for sample collection that would give a hint? Something that is added perhaps, that could tell them what you are looking at?"

Hermione paused and thought while Lucius knocked back a finger of the whiskey, the burn in his throat better than the acid that was clawing at his stomach. It had been nothing to him to deal with that thief, but there was a price to be paid for such dark indulgences. Right now he wanted to either break something or fuck Hermione hard across the desk, and neither was an option until they had hashed through this and talked to Draco. He threw back the rest of his drink and shoved the aggression aside.

"Back in the beginning stages of the work, I had the tubes waiting with the primers for PCR at St. Mungo's. This was two years ago, but I was not keeping an inventory. If someone had taken one, I would not have known about it. That would give them a place to start, if they hit upon the right fragments." Her voice was slow as she met his eyes, and Lucius swore under his breath.

"You had only just been hired, Lucius. No one had been paying the slightest attention to me then."

"Clearly someone was! That is _precisely_ why I have been so insistent about keeping a close hold on everything associated with your work!" Lucius glared at her, but Hermione glared back at him. His gaze grew as cold as ice but Hermione refused to be cowed.

"I was running an entire genome through sequencing _by myself_ and doing so at a pace that would have exhausted anyone else. I was interested in _speed_ and _efficiency_. With literally NO HELP, do you honestly mean to hold me accountable for a security lapse?" Hermione fought to control herself, the volume of her voice rising as she spoke, and Lucius held up a hand.

"Enough. I am not going to chastise you, damn it," he snarled. "Unless you happen to still have your Time Turner, there is nothing to be done about it now."

Hermione's eyes flashed with shock and Lucius turned toward her to look at her with sardonic irritation. "Do you honestly think I let that lie? Do you think, knowing me as _intimately_ as you do now, that I would have stopped before finding out how Black was still alive?"

The memory of that night flashed hot through her, burning her with the sting of their shared past when they had been on diametrically opposed sides in the midst of a deadly war. Lucius' jaw was set and his face was as cold as marble, hiding the flush of feelings on his part except for the quicksilver flashes in his eyes as they stared at each other.

"No, I don't suppose you would have. Just like I won't stop my work, no matter how many threats we receive or attempted break-ins or assaults." Hermione's voice was flushed with intent and passion, determined to be heard through Lucius' possessive instincts and anger at yet another glimpse of how little control he had managed to exert over the danger facing her.

"I know that, you little witch," Lucius hissed, halting just close enough to her that she could feel his anger and agitation like palpable waves. "But I'd prefer you to do it in a manner that doesn't get you killed!"

"Do you care, husband?" The words poured from her mouth before she considered just how many endorphins and neurotransmitters were erupting in a primitive cacophony in Lucius' brain, but she realized it a split second before he crushed her to him, his eyes flashing with more emotions than she could name as he ruthlessly plundered her mouth, his erection firm and insistent against her navel.

"I'm going to fuck you across this desk," he growled, meeting her eyes, satisfied with the reciprocal, involuntary lust, "and then you're going to beg me to come." His mouth slanted over hers again, wrenching a heartfelt murmur of approval from his wife as he shoved both hands underneath the elastic of her soft pants to grip her bum. Merlin he needed this, right now. He had her bottom naked on the desk and her hand had just freed him from his trousers when they both finally acknowledged the knock that had grown loud enough to penetrate his primal fog of arousal and dominance.

"Damn it, go away, Draco!" he yelled, but Draco's next words were the nail in the coffin for it.

"Potter is here!"

"Ten minutes!" Hermione called out loudly, then grabbed her wand from her hair and cast a silencing spell. Her eyes were wide and she was breathing heavily. "Take me."

Lucius didn't have to be told twice. He filled her with one thrust, and made good on his threat, moving Hermione right across the desk with force and depth. It wasn't about lovemaking nor gentleness. Hermione hadn't expected anything from it, she just knew he needed this. It was a surprise that it turned her on, and she was begging him, harder, faster, "More, God Lucius, please more!", which made him bite her ear and whisper, "I told you so," before he soothed it with a savage suck that sent more heat right to her groin. When they both came it was quick and hard, just the way he had shagged her. He straightened immediately and scourgified himself, then turned his wand and did the same for her. He held out his hand for her to get off the desk, keeping her from retrieving her pants temporarily.

"I _will_ protect you at all costs, witch." His voice was still growly, the edge taken off by the hard shag but the possessiveness still in full frontal force.

"I know," Hermione said, then reached up to kiss him softly. "It's nice that you care too, Lucius."

He didn't say a word, sliding his wand back into its place and catching his hair back smoothly into a queue. When he nodded to Hermione she had her slacks back on and had removed any creases with a small charm. She removed the silencing spell and cast a cleansing charm on the air as Lucius opened the door, allowing an irritated Potter to rush in, followed by Draco who rolled his eyes.

"My apologies for the delay—we were going over some of my notes," Hermione said weakly, throwing her gaze to Lucius who eyed her back as if to say, _I wouldn't have apologized at all, witch_.

"Percivel let me know what happened, and Draco gave me his version of events. I want to know what you found out from the thief," Harry said, looking at Lucius. His tone was even, but Hermione knew her friend's tells and he was pissed about something. Clearly Lucius thought he was up to something as well, as he was in no hurry to elucidate further, the silence stretching across their staring contest.

Deciding she needed to step into the breach, Hermione said, "Harry, we think he was after something I brought home. There is no other explanation for the break-in. We were trying to find a pattern."

Harry glanced around the room and recognized the familiar sprawl of Hermione's notes, which caused his shoulders to relax marginally. "I can tell. I still find it hard to believe that nothing _untoward_ occurred between you catching this guy and calling the Aurors."

"What are you insinuating, Mr. Potter?" Lucius asked, his tone deadly soft. Hermione walked over to her husband and put a hand on his chest to get his attention.

"We need help." Her voice was low, the request unspoken. When he still said nothing, she darted a glance at Draco, who engaged Harry in a meaningless point while she spoke quietly to Lucius. "I know you trust him with my safety. Can you honestly tell me you trust everyone at your level in the Ministry?"

He didn't have to answer for Hermione to know she had won the point. Taking her husband's hand in her own, she turned back to Harry.

"He let it slip that he was after the genetic profiles which I brought home."

A muscle in Harry's temple ticked as his jaw clenched. "Let it slip, did he?" His wand hand twitched, and she felt Lucius' muscles tense under her hand.

"Harry!" Hermione's tone was sharp. "Yes, he did. Now can we focus on _why_ he would be after that? It's the first time the attacks have moved toward my research and not me personally."

The effect of pointing that out was immediate, as Harry's brow furrowed. "You're right. It's not someone who just has a grudge against you."

"No, Mr. Potter—it never has been," Lucius said, walking back to the desk to survey Hermione's paperwork. "That means that anyone Hermione has spoken to about her work might be at risk, including Muggles."

"Lucius was asking me to compile a list of researchers I might have spoken to when I was beginning the studies, or anyone I met at a conference."

"I will put together a list of anyone who had access to your early stuff at Mungo's," Draco offered, his mind already leaping to the correct conclusion about the events of the evening. Lucius glanced at his son, then met Harry's gaze.

"They know how to find the gene, then," Harry said testily, and Hermione looked at him.

"We think so. It's the only thing that makes sense, Harry."

"Do you think the Muggle researchers are in danger?"

Hermione let out the breath she had been holding as Harry finally spoke directly to Lucius, and Lucius glanced up from his desk, his face stoically calm as usual.

"They may be." Lucius nodded to his wife, who was shuffling her notes again, putting them in chronological order. "We will go over your processes with a fine tooth comb to see where else someone might have gleaned information. Had you been to Muggle research conferences before I was hired? Did you consult any Muggle researchers?"

Lucius swept his wand over the desk and moved all of her notes to hover in an identical pattern, clearing his desk and pulling out a fresh set of parchment and a charmed quill that started transcribing his words. "We need the names of any Muggle researchers you have contacted. And whose profiles did you bring home?"

"I'm going to call Underwood," Harry said, but Hermione stopped him after an unspoken exchange with Lucius.

"No. Talk to Kingsley directly, Harry. And make sure he's alone."

"Fine. Excuse me for a minute," Harry said, and Hermione knew he was going to send his Patronus. It was still a technique that the Order had kept to themselves, and Hermione felt the edge of the secret cut across her, but she set it aside. It was irrelevant at the moment. Fortunately if Lucius or Draco noticed they chose not to say anything, and the scratching of three quills on parchment was all that was heard for a few minutes. The door opened and Hermione heard a soft voice, her head popping up to see Astoria.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Nothing for me, love," Draco replied, absentmindedly kissing his wife's hand as she passed by, ruffling his hair. Hermione had not spent much time with Astoria, but from what Lavender had said and the occasional glimpses of them together, she knew Draco loved his wife.

"I'd love a cup of tea, and can you organize these by date, please?" Hermione said, making a snap decision after seeing her daughter-in-law standing there looking left out. There was a stunner—she had a woman two years her junior as a daughter-in-law! Hermione snorted to herself and Lucius glanced across the desk at her, the corner of his mouth quirking up briefly.

"Perhaps a pot of tea Astoria. Mr. Potter will rejoin us shortly."

"Of course." Astoria snapped to summon a house elf, asking for a tea tray and some light snacks before settling down with her wand and the considerable stack of paperwork that Hermione had gifted her with.

"Do you want them cross-referenced by name?" she asked Hermione after a few minutes, and Hermione blinked in surprise.

"Yes, that's a great idea, thank you."

Astoria simply inclined her head and returned to her work. After a few surreptitious glances at her revealed that Astoria was probably one of those nauseatingly organized people, Hermione quit her covert surveillance of the work and focused on the sequences arrayed before her. Lucius had an equal number spread before him on the desk, and the pair of them were combing through slowly, looking for anything that might be significant. This was the scene that greeted Harry as he re-entered the room.

"Did you see the CpG islands near 160254 and 160252?"Lucius was focused now in a way that was completely familiar to Hermione.

"Kingsley is going to Floo over," Harry said, but only Draco paid any attention.

"Fine, it's open for the Minister at present," he said as he continued scratching names on what was becoming a rather detailed list, as he was including the reason(s) the individuals could have accessed Hermione's research.

"Yes, that is why I brought this set home. I wanted to know if they were present in _all_ of these." Hermione raised her to head to look at Lucius, the two of them engaged in what was a common feature of their work meetings.

"Are these all Squibs?"

"Yes. I left the magical parents at the Ministry."

Lucius immediately focused his attention on Harry. "Those need to be locked down immediately. Call Thickness and get the Unspeakables over there now to move it and lock it all down."

"You can't just take charge, Malfoy. I have to pass that along through Underwood—"

"I'm giving you permission, Harry," Kingsley said as he stepped out of the fireplace, wiping soot from his robes. "You realize Pius is going to ask for all of the research, Lucius."

"He won't get it," Lucius said firmly, keeping his eyes firmly fixed to the pages. "Magical Research does not belong in the DMM, and we both know it."

"I have never disagreed with that," Kingsley said placatingly. "However, it might be a prudent short-term move."

"There are no short-term moves at the MoM, and we both know it," Lucius retorted softly, and Kingsley looked at Hermione, who appeared equally ensconced in the pages and pages of letters before her. He turned and looked at the other pair of Malfoys, Harry having once again departed the room to make arrangements for the DMM to secure Hermione's work at the Ministry.

"Now, Draco or Astoria, can you please explain to me why the two people who apparently desired my presence are now ignoring me?" Kingsley was unoffended, aware of how Hermione was when she was focused on something. What Hermione had failed to appreciate when he made Lucius her boss was how equally tenacious he was. He internally grinned at the sight of the pair of them working feverishly and amicably together, finally.

"Granger and Father are looking for a pattern in the Squib sequences—something to do with the regulators that Hermione has been looking for. We know the thief was after that data." Draco didn't flinch under Kingsley's interrogating look, and the Minister shifted his attention to Astoria, who was almost done reorganizing Hermione's notes from all of her conversations with Muggle researchers over the years, bright purple and blue flags sticking out and waving lazily among a litany of other colors, but those were the most prevalent.

"Some of these are abysmally short—are you sure they could be regulators?" Lucius was speaking to Hermione as if the others weren't there, his grey eyes flashing to hers in challenge again.

"They are shorter compared to other reported sets, but they are highly selected. That is not chance—it's most likely that they serve a regulatory purpose."

"Have you cross-checked against Muggle genes?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Don't insult me."

"But you do have a Muggle gene downstream, right here," Lucius pointed to a segment of the genome in question. "It's possible that it regulates that gene."

"Or it's too far away, and it's far more possible that it regulates this one," Hermione retorted, putting her finger down on the magical gene in question. "That's the one that is downregulated. I just don't know if it is a histone deacetylase or if it is involved in chromatin remodeling by a pathway that hasn't been fully elucidated yet."

"How are those transgenic nifflers coming along?"

"I don't know!" Hermione erupted. "You wouldn't let me be involved in that, _remember_?"

"You can't be in charge of four projects at once and also do the bulk of the work," Lucius retorted.

Hermione let that pass because she knew he was right. "Are you done with your set? Because every one of the profiles has to have it."

"Yes. They do."

"What is the implication of that?" Kingsley asked idly, having wandered over to watch them bicker.

"It means that I may have found the regulatory regions that control the expression of the recessive gene that makes Squibs. Maybe."

"Why would someone want this information?" Kingsley's voice was deep, and he turned to Harry as he re-entered the room, looking tired. "Well?"

"The Unspeakables are in the department now, securing all of Hermione's work. They will move it to a secured location until you decide where it should be on a more permanent basis."

"Great work Harry," Kingsley said, then turned his attention back to Lucius and Hermione as two house elves apparated with a full tea tray and another tray full of nibbly bits.

"Tea, Minister?" Astoria asked, gracefully setting aside her wand and preparing to play mother.

"Yes, please. Strong and black." He smiled politely to the younger Mrs. Malfoy, who nodded and turned her attention to Harry.

"Mr. Potter?"

Lucius and Hermione exchanged a look, then Lucius began to speak. "If you had the genetic profile of the magical genes and this recessive gene, you could screen Muggles for…likely partners."

"Fuck," Harry said, which elicited an, "I beg your pardon," from Astoria, who was still focused on the tea, and a low whistle from Draco.

"History of Magic, eh, Father?" Draco said, throwing his gaze to his father and then Astoria, who set the teapot down with a bit less than her usual grace as Lucius' words and their implications sank in.

"Shit," Kingsley said, his brow furrowing. "This is not good. We have ministries from all over the world asking for precisely this information—and I'm not hesitant to tell you that I doubt all of them are capable of treating this in the ethical manner it requires."

"Indeed," Lucius said darkly, his eyes darting to his wife's with ill-concealed impatience.

"It's what you said at the beginning," she said, and he nodded silently.

"Wait, he said that at the beginning? Lucius Malfoy, concerned with _ethics_?" Harry considered himself to be remarkably tolerant nowadays, all things considered, but that seemed to beggar belief.

"Oh, the _irony_, Harry Potter!" Lucius was coiled with tension like a snake about to strike. "However, _some of us_ are old enough to have had parents and grandparents who vividly recalled the last great war that involved conflict between _Muggle_ and _Wizard_. Whatever else you think of me, Mr. Golden Boy Fucking Harry Potter, consider how deeply committed I am to protecting my family and my world!"

Kingsley's frown was deep, and Hermione silently implored Harry not to bait her husband anymore.

"This is extremely serious. What are you doing about the Muggles you've had contact with?" Kingsley asked, cutting through the crap.

"We are making a list now—Astoria was cross-referencing it for me while we looked at the sequences."

Kingsley's eyes flew to the stack of colorfully tagged pages, snagging on the most common colors. "Who are purple and blue?"

Astoria pulled two files with blue and purple tags. "Dr. Frederica Hayes of Cornell University, USA, and Dr. Leonard Mullan, Oxford University."

"I want Aurors on them now. I'll Floo call Fabian myself."

"They won't accept outright bodyguards," Hermione said. "You will have to sneak them in—I suggest having the Aurors pose as students. Make sure they are good at Potions so they can fake their way along, or Arithmancy so they can pose as chemometrics experts."

"And that they are young," Lucius added drolly, and Kingsley nodded, then stuck his head in the fireplace, calling out Fabian's address by use of a spell that muffled his words for everyone else.

"The Americans won't want our Aurors," Harry said tiredly, mindlessly accepting the cup of tea Astoria had prepared with one sugar and some milk and drinking it without thinking. "It's going to be a hellacious battle to get them to do it without giving over any information."

Draco passed his list to Lucius and walked over behind his wife's chair to rub Astoria's shoulders. "That's all we can do for now, poppet. Bed time for us, I think."

"Thank you for your help, both of you," Hermione said sincerely, catching one of Astoria's hands as they passed by.

"You're welcome," Astoria said, pressing an air kiss on her cheek before letting her hand go and heading to bed with Draco.

"Malfoys stick together, Granger," Draco drawled, winking at her cheekily as his wife was kissing her cheek.

"Arse," she grumped, then stretched her neck. She was feeling tired as well, and Lucius' attention focused on her like a laser.

"You need to go to bed."

Hermione noticed that he hadn't said they would go to bed, just that she needed to go to bed.

"I'm fine."

Lucius' eyes snapped at her but she held her ground, then purposefully looked at Harry. Kingsley was still talking in the Floo, and at that moment she was wishing them all gone so she could crawl into bed with Lucius and sleep until about noon tomorrow.

"Eat something," Lucius ordered, propelling her to a chair and pouring a cup of tea for her, then making sure she drank it.

"I'm not hungry," Hermione protested weakly, but he waved a miniature ginger orange scone under her nose. "Oh, all right, one."

Lucius seated himself next to her on the couch, a satisfied look on his face as he used his wand to prepare his cup of tea using a little spell he'd taught himself at eight. He took a sip, perfect. Kingsley finished his floo call and seated himself in the chair next to Harry's, selecting a vanilla tart with fresh currants.

"Your tea," Lucius said, offering Kingsley a cup of strong black tea.

"Thank you," Kingsley said, taking a large sip and then a bite of the tart. "Ah, very nice. It is pleasant to have something sweet after dealing with unpleasantness."

No one said anything as they drank their tea and polished off several of the treats from the tray. Finally Kingsley stood, brushing crumbs from his robes. "Lucius, Harry, thank you for handling this discreetly. I will be in touch tomorrow through more official channels. In the meantime, Harry, keep this evening's events under your robes, if you please. I have to do a bit of digging around with Pius before I will feel it appropriate to bring in Yaxley or Underwood."

"Of course, sir," Harry replied.

"Lucius, I expect to see you first thing in the morning, please. As far as Yasmin is concerned, you are merely giving me an update regarding your department's work in your absence. 10 AM, please."

"Of course," Lucius replied. "And Hermione?"

"I wouldn't dream of excluding her," Kingsley said, his eyes twinkling at Hermione, who was still seated in her chair. "But I agree that you should not present a perfect picture of harmony and felicity. You do understand?"

This was directed to Hermione and she nodded. "Of course, Kingsley," she said, even though she was not happy about it. However, she was too tired to argue.

"Good night then." Kingsley bowed to them all, and disappeared into the Floo in a swirl of subdued pattern.

"I'm off as well," Harry said, giving Hermione a hug after she stood to say goodbye. "Mind yourself, 'Mione."

"Of course I will, you prat," Hermione replied. Harry nodded to Lucius civilly, then used the Floo to take himself home.

"Bed," Lucius said firmly as soon as the flames had turned back to their normal orange, advancing on his wife with a suddenness that saw her swept up into his arms before she could protest.

"I can walk!"

"Hush," Lucius chastised her, then lazily disapparated them to their bedroom. Since this was where she had wanted to be for twenty minutes, Hermione couldn't find the heart to protest his high-handedness, and went through the motions of getting ready for bed with the fogginess of overexertion.

"Good night," she whispered to Lucius, pressing a simple kiss on him before she snuggled down and fell asleep.


	16. Boardroom, Bedroom

**Wow your reviews are so fantastic! Alesia and zeeksmom, such props for the detailed reviews! I know you aren't missing anything, there are details worth noting for later, and some red herrings because we all know that is required here... :) **

**This chapter is so long, but I couldn't stand to break it up into two so you get a nice long treat for Mother's Day. I wish I had time to respond individually to reviews, but seriously, they are the best form of motivation ever. I have the day off tomorrow so maybe the next bit will be ready to go sooner than a week between updates. I would like it to be sooner than that but mid-quarter is stressful. **

**Expect some more bumps for Lucius & Hermione here, and more action in the next chapter. (And not the bedroom kind!) I hope I'm keeping you guessing as to who is involved here. A few people have said they wished there was more exposition about the relationship between Hermione & Lucius, i.e. it took longer for them to get together. Keep reading-I've scattered hints about that which some have picked up on, I expect to keep leaving that trail of breadcrumbs for you throughout. Suffice it to say, I did not find it story-worthy to write such a large exposition for this piece, but that doesn't mean it isn't all in my head. **

**As always, please let me know what you think! Thank you!**

* * *

"I am _not_ staying here," Hermione insisted vehemently, ignoring the stares of the entire Magical Research department as she went toe to toe with her husband and boss.

"You were not invited," Lucius said pointedly in a low voice, to which Hermione had an immediate answer.

"He said I was not to be excluded."

"Yes, but it was perfectly clear what he _meant_," Lucius hissed, his grip on his temper slipping in a rare expression of pique. No one in the room missed it, and they all hurried to appear busy with anything else as he swept his cold glare around the room.

"Then he should have _said _what he _meant_," Hermione hissed back, equally annoyed.

"Fine." Lucius' teeth were clenched and he didn't stop to wait politely for his wife, sweeping off toward the elevators. This was not missed either, and Hermione gritted her own teeth and followed him, determined not to be swept aside. They both stood poker stiff in the lift as it lurched backward and then up, the rustle of interdepartmental memos overhead and the throat clearing of a few other passengers the only noise that was heard until they finally reached the first level.

"Minister of Magic," the elevator intoned, and Hermione followed Lucius again, his long strides eating up the tiles at a pace that forced her to hurry her steps. When they arrived at Kingsley's office, she was somewhat flushed from rushing, while Lucius looked as composed as ever. Muttering under her breath, she at least appreciated that Lucius displayed gentlemanly courtesy by opening the door to Kingsley's private conference room for her before he followed her in. Pius Thicknesse and Kingsley were already present, deep in conversation.

"Ah, Lucius, Hermione. How pleasant to see you. I trust your honeymoon was delightful?"

"Perfectly so, thank you," Lucius said at same time that Hermione said, "It was lovely."

"Excellent." Kingsley gestured to the seats at the small table, and Pius nodded his head politely to both of them. "Let's get started then. Now, about your work, Hermione…there is some question of whether your research is perhaps becoming a bit too much of an ashwinder egg to remain in the Magical Research Division."

"Are you proposing that I stop my work entirely?" Hermione asked, preempting Lucius who had opened his mouth to speak.

"Certainly not," Pius interjected smoothly. "But the attacks on your person and attempted thefts of your results suggest that a greater rigor of security is required."

Lucius did not miss the plural in Pius' sentence. "What other attack on her results has commenced? Or were the security precautions undertaken recently breached?"

"I am dealing with the matter with Yaxley," Kingsley interrupted, holding his hand up before Lucius could pursue the subject further. "The fact remains that with a suspected leak in your department, it might be better to move the entire work under the DMM."

"And let the person or persons responsible for leaking information slip away without consequence, leaving us no other trails to follow," Lucius replied quickly. "That is not exactly the best path forward to uncovering whoever is behind all of this, nor will it inspire confidence in your handling of this affair."

"There is the matter of a breach of the regulations governing employee conduct," Pius smirked. "It's hardly appropriate for your _wife_ to report you, and everyone knows it."

"I was under the impression you were still head of the DMM, Pius. Do let me congratulate you on your move to the Head of HR." Lucius' tone was subtly snide and mocking, but he didn't let it rest there. "Besides, with all of the upcoming arranged marriages under Ministry orders, I don't doubt that such policies are even now being extensively reworked?"

A simply quirked eyebrow and glance in Kingsley's direction confirmed that such endeavors were already in process, and Lucius looked back to Pius calmly. "As you see, it is not a problem."

Hermione, while fascinated at this insight into the interplay and wrangling that occurred all the time between department heads, was anxious to settle the matter of her work so she could get back to it. "Kingsley, we have all of the equipment and research already underway in Magical Research. To move everything would ruin all results with the lab animals and set us back by at least several months. It is simply not possible to pick and choose our location, nor treat an entire division's worth of workers as if they were chess pieces. The game is already well underway, and it must be completed on the board as set."

"What do you propose, Miss Gran—er, Mrs. Malfoy? To ward the entire division, and post Unspeakables at all points of entry?" Pius was clearly being sarcastic, but Hermione pretended that undertone was entirely absent.

"Yes, that would do the trick nicely," she said pleasantly, looking from Thicknesse to Kingsley, carefully avoiding looking at her husband. "Or is the Ministry prepared to admit this has grown beyond its resources and ask for assistance from other countries? I'm sure the Americans would be willing to help…"

Kingsley's eyes gleamed momentarily but it was well banked equally rapidly. "I think we all know that will be unnecessary, won't it, Pius? Between yourself and Underwood I'm sure you have enough qualified personnel to secure the area required."

"The _point_," Lucius said, not attempting to mask the trace of irritation in his voice, "is that disrupting my wife's work and that of my entire division will not aid you in unmasking the individuals behind these attacks. We still do not know why they are doing this, or how many other countries' citizens may be involved. And without information as to their possible motivations, that makes it exceedingly difficult to derive appropriate security measures."

"I can shed some light on one of those points?" Pius' tone was expressionless as he waited for Kingsley's permission, but Lucius knew from past dealings with the man that he knew something which Yaxley and Underwood did not.

"Proceed with caution," was all Kingsley said, as Lucius privately wondered why Shacklebolt was allowing Hermione to hear all of this. It was certainly not information that he would have shared with her under other circumstances.

Pius turned his attention to Lucius, utterly ignoring Hermione. "We have reason to believe that in addition to a French connection, there are entities from Norway and Germany involved."

"Durmstrang," Hermione breathed, and Kingsley darted a sharp glance to her.

"No one in this room has mentioned that institution, Mrs. Malfoy," Kingsley said sharply, and Hermione shut her mouth, although clearly the wheels were still turning in her head. Lucius mentally cursed his transparent wife and casually filed away Pius' reaction to Hermione's outburst.

"Back to the issue of security: what would assist Pius in ascertaining the best path forward would be a more detailed understanding of exactly what you are working on now, Lucius and Hermione. I am aware of your nearly obsessive tendencies toward secrecy—" here his eyes flashed to Lucius—"but this problem requires more than two people to be intimately aware of the details of your work."

"And in case one of us dies," Lucius drawled, spelling out the implications quite clearly. "Yes, I can see how such an event would be terribly inconvenient for you, Kingsley, with so many other countries breathing down your neck."

A cold jolt of icy fear ran down her back, but Hermione didn't allow it to affect her visibly. She knew what it was they were facing already; hearing Lucius say it out loud didn't mean it would happen.

"I would like to know that Pius is bound by the same oath by which you have constrained us." Hermione had no idea if Kingsley had put Lucius under an oath as her husband was obviously not allowed to tell her, but it seemed a logical conclusion.

"Already in force," Kingsley assured her.

"And I want to be brought up to date on everything already known," Hermione added, afraid to look at Lucius who was probably ready to murder her.

"I'll leave that up to Lucius. You have my permission to tell her," Kingsley said clearly, aware that the beginnings of a row had just been started in his office. Hopefully this time they would have the decorum to wait to finish it until they were home at Malfoy Manor. "Now, tell him. All of it."

"To start, I merely wanted to identify a tentative set of magical genes," Hermione began, tentatively meeting Lucius' eyes. He snorted, reminding Hermione forcibly of their first meeting when he was appointed her boss.

_"Attempting to precisely characterize just what it is in your blood that makes you special? I'll tell you: absolutely nothing. You are a freak of chance, a random event. Unlike you, I was brought up to know from birth that my talents are special and rare. You will not succeed in reducing them to some scientific formula, parsed and dissected, ready to be duplicated."_

_Her blood had boiled and she had turned to confront Kingsley. "I don't care who you put in as department head as long it is not this hypocritical, bigoted snake! You can't honestly think that he will truly support my work, let alone attempt to understand it!"_

_Lucius Malfoy snorted, suppressing a laugh. "That, my dear, is precisely the __**point**__. If you can convince __**me**__, Kingsley knows the rest of the purebloods will follow along. Do try your best, Granger. I am very much looking forward to the entertainment of making you squirm."_

"You wanted to redefine the essence of magic," Lucius said irritatedly, then rolled his eyes and looked away.

"I merely wanted to understand it," Hermione replied forcefully, then returned her attention to Pius Thicknesse. "In trying to identify magical genes, I studied Muggles, Squibs, and obviously magically active wizards and witches. It was while I was studying Squibs that I found a peculiar effect: they seemed to have the magical genes, but they were not magically active."

"Are you telling me that Squibs are not genetically deficient, in a magical sense?" Pius asked. This was something that the three of them had told no one, under Kingsley's demand.

"Technically they are, because they possess another gene—one not found in Muggles nor Wizard. Well, not found in pairs. Wizards and witches can carry the gene, but an individual must possess both copies in order for the individual to be a Squib. This additional gene causes their chromosomes to be remodeled, therefore their magical genes are rendered silent."

Lucius could see that Pius was not following, and interrupted Hermione. "The Squib marker gene which Hermione found causes the magical genes to be buried in the chromosomes, and therefore they are not expressed. Without the products of the genes working in the cells, the individual will not possess the ability to recognize and wield magic."

"And is this true of every Squib you've studied?" Pius asked.

"Thus far, yes. Obviously I haven't been able to study Squibs in other countries, but for our population, it is holding true."

"And can it be corrected? I mean, if they have the magical genes, could they be activated again by some means?"

Kingsley cleared his throat. "It's too early to say if that would be possible."

"And would these Squibs then be more likely to have magical children?" Pius was not well educated in Muggle science, but every wizarding family knew about breeding and bloodlines.

"Yes—with caveats." Hermione was unsure of exactly how much Kingsley wanted them to say, but Lucius was aware of exactly what Kingsley was doing.

"If they married a pureblood they would probably continue having Squibs. With the right Muggle, definitely. Halfbloods would be a mixed bag."

"I think you see why this information could be dangerous," Kingsley interrupted, folding his hands placidly.

"And your genetic profiles, being the basis for the Ministry's table of arranged marriages, would allow individuals to find their own…partners for offspring." Pius was in no way resembling his last name in the workings of his brain. "This is quite eerily similar to the wizarding wars of the 1500s."

"Indeed," Lucius muttered.

"What of the Muggle researchers with whom you have collaborated? How much do they know about your work identifying the magical genes?"

This was the first astute question which Thicknesse had posed after assimilating the implications of the genetics, and it was one which Hermione could not answer fully.

"I did make some enquiries when I was first suspecting the problem. I couched it all quite carefully in terms of obscure Muggle diseases, but given the sensitive nature of the information, a powerful Legilimens would probably be able to…extract some useful information from them." Hermione's voice trembled slightly, and Lucius placed his hand surreptitiously on her back.

"We will make sure that does not happen," Kingsley reassured. "Pius has already dispatched three Unspeakables to the States to deal with the red tape on that end, and we now have Aurors in Dr. Mullan's lab. Funded by a new grant from the British government, of course."

"Yes, that is a good first step—but the question remains, how do we stop those responsible for attempting to gain this information? We have made little progress in identifying the leak in my division." Lucius' tone was measured even though he was frustrated by the lack of progress.

"It could be prudent to allow the individuals in question to believe that have obtained valuable information," Pius suggested. "It could be arranged, provided the bait was attractive enough, and not so easily obtained."

"What a very Slytherin suggestion, Pius," Lucius remarked sarcastically. "Do you think we haven't already thought of that? But the individuals in question already have obtained some pertinent information about Hermione's work. Without knowing exactly how much, it becomes impossible to select an 'attractive' bait."

"Is there only one pattern to the genetic information, Mrs. Malfoy? Could you not use some Muggle genes as red herrings?"

"I have not found any yet."

Pius met Lucius' eyes and then Kingsley's. "My father always said history had a lot to teach us with respect to our identities. Perhaps that would be a good place to start. We are very focused on the loss of magic within a few generations—are there any times when the wizarding population has boomed?"

"The wars," Lucius breathed, then looked at Pius with a grudging level of respect. "I'm glad you weren't killed after your Imperius, Thicknesse."

"The feeling is mutual, I assure you," Pius said drily.

"Does this give you a fresh perspective, Hermione?" Kingsley asked.

"Yes."

"Good. Now, Pius, what are you going to do about the security of the Magical Research division?" No one spoke of the white elephant in the room: why was Calvin Yaxley not in the meeting, as the head of the MLE.

"I have measures in place as we have previously discussed, Minister."

"I won't have your Unspeakables lurking about invisible, Pius. Magical auras could interfere with a significant number of the experiments that are being run."

"It must be frightfully depressing to have so much continuing education required for your _job_, Lucius. How positively Ravenclaw of you," Pius retorted, a corner of his mouth quirking upward slightly at his own wit.

"Excuse me, but what about the Aurors?" Hermione did not know if she was still going to be required to have an Auror escort, and it seemed no one was willing to explain why Fabian Underwood at least was not present, if not Calvin Yaxley.

"You will continue to have an Auror escort," Pius Thicknesse said smoothly—too smoothly.

"You mean I will have Unspeakables as well," Hermione said.

"You may very well think that, but I couldn't possibly comment," he replied, and Hermione saw that his middling reply was in perfect accord with Lucius' and Kingsley's opinions by the looks on their faces.

"Fine, don't tell me!" She threw up her hands and had to be content with a glare round the table. "Because you all know how very _agreeable_ I am to being kept in the dark."

"We'll discuss it later." Lucius' eyes were steely, but Hermione was feeling aggravated by the levels of testosterone and old-fashioned male tradition in the room.

"You mean you'll tell me what you want me to do later. I don't think so." Her own eyes flashed with anger and she could see that Lucius was equally irritated with her for disagreeing with him in so public a manner, although he controlled his emotions far better than she.

"I believe it might be best for Lucius and Pius to have a meeting in private regarding the security measures that would be acceptable in Magical Research. You, Hermione, will accompany me to discuss a few things with Potter and Weasley. Over lunch, which I have conveniently arranged."

It was not a request, even couched in the agreeable terms of a fellow Order member, and Hermione understood exactly what Kingsley was saying. "Fine. I will see you later," she said to Lucius, who nodded, a slight smirk on his lips, which merely irritated Hermione further. "Thank you for the suggestion, Pius."

The dark haired man nodded quietly, and she had no choice but to allow Kingsley to sweep her from the room in a gallant manner.

* * *

Dinner that evening was a stiltedly polite family affair with Astoria and Draco. Lucius did not ask what she had discussed with Ron, Harry, and Kingsley, and she did not ask what he had discussed with Pius Thicknesse. It was an unspoken accord that they would continue their conversation in private later. The only bit of comic relief was provided by Scorpius, whom Lucius insisted be allowed to attend dinner as they had been gone for a week and the boy had wondered where his grandfather had gone.

"You again," the toddler had said to Hermione as they sat down, then he had proceeded to misbehave spectacularly at the dinner table when Lucius did not give him his full attention. After he caused the salt shaker to pour over the candelabra, Hermione could see why they had no doubts as to the child's magical potency. Draco and Astoria took turns containing his little magical outbursts, and Lucius ignored him whenever he misbehaved, which made him misbehave again.

"How old are you, Scorpius?" Hermione asked before the child could be chastised again in a quiet tone from either Draco or Astoria. It was a bit much to expect the tyke to sit for a four course meal, after all. She couldn't imagine James doing so well, and he must be two years older.

"Two," he said, holding up two chubby fingers.

"You're older than Albus," Hermione said, then smiled at him. "Do you have a broom yet?"

"No," he said sullenly, and Hermione winked at him as the main course was brought to the table. She caught Astoria's eye and exchanged a glance with her as Draco discussed something with his father.

"If you behave, I will turn your dessert fork into a broom for you and have it do some tricks. But you have to behave."

The boy's eyes widened and he nodded.

"I hope you don't mind a shameless bribe," Hermione said quietly to Astoria across the table as Scorpius applied himself to the roast that the charmed fork and knife had cut up for him. It helped that Astoria had charmed the food to assemble itself into fun shapes as he ate it, morphing from a dragon to a dinosaur to a dog as he ate it.

"He's normally not like this. It's because he hasn't seen Lucius in over a week," Astoria said apologetically, and Hermione grinned.

"Don't apologize, he's doing marvelously for his age. I doubt any of the four year olds of my acquaintance could behave half so well for such a long meal."

"I think Lucius just forgot," Astoria said, and Lucius' ears pricked up at the mention of his name.

"What, pray tell, did I forget?" His grey eyes were midly inquiring as he looked from his new wife to his daughter-in-law, and Draco's eyebrow quirked.

"Yes, do tell, Tori."

"Our son is a bit young for such an elaborate meal," Astoria replied calmly, her face perfectly polite although there was a bit of haughtiness in her tone. This was the pureblood mother defending her child, and Hermione had to resist the urge to grin as the image of a television program about animals in the wild popped into her mind. _See how the pureblood aristocrat in her natural environment simultaneously trains and protects her offspring_. She had to grab her napkin and pretended to cough, which caused Lucius to swivel his attention to her.

"He seems to be doing just fine right now," Lucius observed, keeping his eyes on Hermione.

"That's because Hermione has promised him a treat," Astoria said, eating while she had the chance to do so.

"I see. And what, pray tell, do you intend to do for Scorpius, wife?" Lucius was curious, but years of training would not allow him to show more than a faded disinterest. Table manners were so ingrained from such a young age that he couldn't even begin to pinpoint the time he had learned what was and was not acceptable as far as emotional expressions at the dinner table.

"You'll just have to wait and see if Scorpius earns it," Hermione said, placing a piece of roast in her mouth and meeting Scorpius' eyes across the table. She noted that the boy reapplied himself to his dinner with due diligence after the distraction of the adults talking about him, which was all to the good. Hermione was afraid that he was about to act up again at being discussed as if he were not present.

True to her word, when the plates were removed Hermione waved her hand and Scorpius' dessert fork came to life, the tines elongating and twisting in a way that resembled those of a broom. Lucius and Draco sat back to watch the charm, and Hermione sent the fork zooming around the dinner table, eliciting a whoop of joy from Scorpius, who was ready to bound out of his chair and try to catch it.

"You have to stay seated, Scorpius, or the broom will fly away," Lucius said, watching his wife's wandless magic with appreciation. Talent was always appreciated in the Malfoy family.

Hermione made the fork fly closer and faster to the candle flames, a feat which enraptured his grandson and brought amused smiles to his parents' faces when they saw his expression. Finally Hermione sent it through a pour of salt and then straight through the candelabra flames, producing a shower of orange flame before the fork came to rest back in its place and ordinary state.

"More!" Scorpius pleaded after his wide eyes finally darted to Hermione's.

"Not tonight." She shook her head as an additional no, and Astoria excused herself to put him to bed.

"I'll be right there," Draco said, then lifted his wineglass to Hermione.

"Very good Granger—oh, sorry, Mrs. Malfoy. I'm afraid I'm going to have to come up with some other appellation for you, as 'Mrs. Malfoy' is my wife in my mind, and you're always going to be Granger to me."

"You could just call me Hermione," she offered, and he drank the last of his wine and stood.

"No, I don't think so. You're not exactly my peer any longer, if you see what I'm saying."

Lucius laughed, amused by Draco's forthrightness. "Perhaps when she's heavily pregnant it will be easier."

"Am I to congratulate you already?" Draco asked, though he hardly seemed surprised.

"I do not doubt that you are, although it will be another week before the spell will reliably indicate it," Lucius said good-naturedly, and Hermione flushed at the casual discussion of her pregnancy.

"Excuse me, but it's not as if we've decided to tell anyone," she said to Lucius, and his eyes flickered to hers in surprise.

"But Draco is family. And he knows about the ritual," Lucius said, knowing it would provoke her. They had that argument to finish, and he'd rather have it out sooner than later. The longer she steeped in her anger the more inclined she was to blow up about it, a character trait which had revealed itself quite thoroughly during their work dealings over the past two years.

"Of course he knows! I'm surprised you didn't have a betting pool with your Slytherin cronies to see how long it would take you to trick me into it," she seethed, and Draco grinned.

"Good night Granger! Good luck!" He sauntered out and Hermione seethed more at Draco's inference that his father would best her in a battle of wits.

"You are utterly insufferable!" Hermione burst out as soon as Draco had closed the door. "So how often have you had a laugh with him over me, then?" she asked, rounding on Lucius before he could place any kisses on her to distract her.

"Whatever would make you think I would discuss you with Draco on a regular basis? He is only barely past the insufferably arrogant stage of life. I hardly make a habit of confiding my innermost thoughts to my son." He had sidled closer and managed to get a firm hold on her elbow, apparating them directly to their bedroom.

"Stop doing that! I am perfectly capable of moving myself about the house, thank you very much!" Hermione said, wrenching her arm away from him.

"I simply felt it was better to discuss whatever you wish to discuss in the privacy of our chambers so the house elves may tidy up from dinner," he said calmly, already removing his outer robes and loosening his shirt cuffs and collar.

"You are so…" Hermione began, but Lucius interjected.

"Arrogant? Brash? Presumptuous? Somehow I doubt the next words were going to be 'handsome' or 'sexy'." He continued undressing, apparently unflappable.

"Yes, damn it! All of those things! Why can you not have the decency to argue with me to my face? You know we have to talk about all the Ministry nonsense, why do you calmly go about your business as if we're not in the middle of a raging row?"

"Because we have to get ready for bed, and I'd much rather be in a comfortable pair of pajamas for a row, if we must have one," Lucius said in that infuriatingly reasonable tone of voice he used when he was being persuasive, dropping his shirt to the chair and unbuttoning his trousers. He arched an eyebrow at her when she stood there watching him, a flush suffusing her cheeks from the sight of his naked chest.

"Pompous prig," he heard her mutter to herself as she stalked past to her own chest of drawers, extracting a camisole and pants and waving her wand vindictively to remove all of her garments at once, allowing them to fly in a haphazard manner to the matching chair where the elves retrieved her clothes. She ignored the satin peignoir laid out for her there, he noticed, but that was no less than he expected. The subtle curve of her breast was highlighted briefly in the dim light of the candles along the walls, then covered with the cotton camisole. Lucius resisted the urge to groan out loud. Patience was a virtue of incalculable worth when dealing with a pissed off wife. He pulled on his silk pajama pants and deliberately left the matching shirt unbuttoned. Sighing, he turned to face his wife.

"Now, about the Ministry meeting. Please enlighten me as to how I have wronged you so inerrantly."

"You cannot go on handling the security measures concerning me as if I am some doll to be zealously guarded without any input or say into the arrangements. It's inexcusably rude! I am not your Stepford wife, Lucius!"

"I'm afraid I have not the pleasure of understanding you," Lucius said cuttingly, although he was perfectly familiar with Levin's Muggle novel. "However, I hope you can appreciate that despite your legendary experience during the second war, it is, astonishingly enough, likely that myself and my peers have more experience in such dealings than you do."

"And that means you cannot tell me what is being done for my protection? What if I unwittingly evade one of your protective measures because you have not told me what is going on? I'm not a pawn in some giant chess game, Lucius, I'm going to make my own decisions and evaluate the risks on my own!"

"No you bloody hell are not!" Lucius' temper finally broke free of his ironclad will, and he stopped himself with effort. "Damn it, Hermione, it's not just about you! Ignore the fact that you are now carrying _my child_, a fact which the rest of the world will be aware of soon enough. Do you not know that you are the _only_ witch who is educated enough, brilliant enough, to unravel this mess in any timely manner that will not result in the greatest explosion of Muggle-wizard relations since the assassination of Franz Ferdinand? It was only the vast skill and diplomatic efforts of Lenin and Lloyd George that kept the wizarding world safe despite the messy overlap between the two."

Hermione's anger was cut off entirely by Lucius' statement. Her mind was reeling from the implications of what he just said. Of course, the only thing that made it out of her mouth was the most irrelevant. "Vladimir Lenin was a wizard?" It made sense now that she thought about it, everyone knew about Lloyd George…they were quite eager to claim him as their own given the turn-out of that war.

Lucius let out a bark of laughter. "I pay you the highest compliment I could pay you, and you ask about Russia's dark wizard? Yes, Hermione. Unsurprisingly, no one wants to talk about it given the parallels that are inevitably drawn to other dark wizards of the past century, but he was a wizard. Now, would you like to get back to the issue at hand, which is that you are now quite literally the 'best hope of the wizarding world'?"

Hermione was dumbfounded, but she had to laugh at that. It was just too damn ridiculous! She hadn't realized she had said it out loud until Lucius drew her up, as she had doubled over with laughter.

"Oh, believe me, I did my fair share of cursing and laughing in equal measure when those words were first quoted to me regarding your work. Damn it, woman, this is serious!"

"But it couldn't possibly be serious, Lucius! Honestly, anyone could do this, if they had half a brain and some patience!"

"But they _don't_ and you _do_. When was the last time you heard of a witch or wizard going to Muggle university? Refraining from using magic as a shortcut? Whoever would think of doing such a thing? Only you, my stubborn Mudblood wife. Only you." Lucius laughed once again at the very bitter irony of his situation. "At least you are sweet, wife. It is my only salvation, I fear."

She let him tilt her chin up to kiss her, which made her breathless. She hated it and loved it in equal measure that he could do that to her so effortlessly. "So what personal protective measures will I have to endure now, then?"

Lucius led her over to the bed and they settled themselves on it to continue talking, for now. "Pius will place Unspeakables in among the Aurors. Inside the department his people will be more obscure. Some wards are being placed to alert us to any changes, and to disable any communication methods for anyone inside the department, including two way mirrors or objects charmed by the Protean charm."

"Um, was it you who…?" Hermione was hesitant to bring up the subject, but Pius had been under the Imperius, and Lucius was rumored to be more than proficient with it. Although nothing had ever been proven regarding who had placed whom under the Imperius, presumably he had been responsible for some of the Ministry falling to Voldemort.

"Placed him under the Imperius?" Lucius arched an eyebrow in sardonic amusement, a better choice than anger although it was irritating that she dared to bring it up. However, he had expected she would not dance around it forever. At least now she was nearly naked and fairly relaxed, a far better venue than it could have been for this discussion.

"First, would I ever admit it to you? Despite your status as my new wife, my dear, I don't think that entitles you to know all of my secrets. Secondly, I dislike the man because he has a distressing tendency to step on other people's toes, which is a very bad habit indeed when we don't know exactly who in the Ministry is feeding information out to the active parties interested in your death or dismemberment. Delicacy and tact are required, not principled stands."

Hermione shifted so she could look at him, one leg tucked under the sheet and the other under her bum.

"Do you _ever_ take a principled stand that does not place you in opposition to every decent-hearted human being? I can feel it beating beneath my hand, I know you have one—but I swear Lucius sometimes the way you behave I wonder if you are…" Hermione stopped before she said something that was patently untrue and furthermore something she would regret.

"If I am what, Hermione? Pray, do continue with that sentence. I am agog to find out exactly what you think of the wizard to whom you've given yourself and your future." Lucius' tone was no less cutting than she deserved, and Hermione knew she needed to explain as best she could. His eyes flashed in a way that told her he was angry and she was on a short clock.

"I simply do not understand you fully. I had my own reasons for agreeing to marry you as well. I did not have to stay—it would have been cowardly to run away, but I could have done that, I thought about it briefly. But you do have redeeming qualities; you are unquestionably loyal to your family, you are protective, overly so I think but nonetheless it is a positive character trait, you loved Narcissa and you love Draco…"

Hermione stopped before she could allow her mind to spin onward like a silly child from there, and Lucius remarked, "How dreadfully actuarial of you." She could not tell if he was being insulting: his face was as smooth as marble and his eyes were cloaked.

"You did renounce Voldemort and save Harry. I know you can be calculating and cutting, I don't have to like it but I would like to understand it, and you, better. I don't want you to be on trial again, as if I'm some kind of judge and jury for you. That is not what marriage is supposed to be about." She stopped her stream of jumbled thoughts and darted her eyes back up to his, and was relieved to note that at least he was no longer angry.

"I am well aware of what a successful marriage is supposed to be about," he reminded her in a way that made her feel inexperienced and young. "You do not have to fully understand my character to support me and our marriage, Hermione."

"I know that, Lucius. And we are at least on the same page for some things, and for the most part we can ignore the others. But to keep it that way is so cold and clinical. I know we would not have chosen to be together otherwise, but surely if we are both willing to work at it, it does not have to remain that way." She stopped again, hesitant.

"What exactly are you getting at, kitten?" Lucius placed a finger under her chin and forced her to meet his gaze.

"I don't know, really. I just think…we should try." Hermione knew it was ridiculous to say they should try to fall in love with each other, they were too different for that, but there had to be a happy middle somewhere for them both, even if she couldn't articulate it.

"Try." Lucius turned over the many possible permutations which he could add to that word. _For an incoherent goal, something you can't even articulate, or perhaps don't dare to…for that which can never be replicated, a marriage of love and mutual understanding with someone who hardly respects my past, let alone understands it. Try._ He sighed. "Are you honestly telling me that you can set aside everything that has gone before, that you aren't always going to second guess my motives, analyze everything to death and find it a struggle to give me the benefit of the doubt? I think that is too much for even such a Gryffindor as you, Hermione."

"Well what is the alternative?" Hermione spat with annoyance, then took a deep breath. "To fuck each other and fumble through some half-hearted appearance of unity for our child and the public? You may not be prepared to fight for something, _anything_ better than that, but I am!"

"I didn't say it wasn't worth the effort," Lucius said calmly. "But if you cannot even trust me to take your personality into account, as both your boss and now, more importantly, your husband, what do you honestly think I can do to change your mind?"

"I dislike your cynicism," Hermione said honestly, and Lucius again caught her cheek in his hand and ran his thumb over her lips.

"All I ask is that you be honest with me, Hermione. I much prefer your honest anger and vehement arguments to your mental suppositions and endless analyses of my character and motives. If you can do that, I can…_try_."

"We can try together," Hermione corrected him, and he allowed a small smile to creep onto his face when she traced his lips with her own fingers, scooting closer. "Please, Lucius. I want to do more than like you or grudgingly respect you."

"And do you like me?" His tone was arch, but she could sense that her answer was important to him on some level.

"You silly man. Of course I do. How could I not?" Her voice was soft as she kissed him, as soft as the body she pressed to his own, his hands naturally resting on her waist, reflexively clenching in the soft fabric of her pajama bottoms as she plied him with honeyed kisses.

"As you say," he replied when she stopped to look at him.

"Arrogant arse," she whispered again, holding him in a tight embrace.

"You like it," he retorted softly.

"Maybe I do."


	17. For Whom the Bell Tolls

**Good evening! I had not realized quite how many words I was into with this little jag, I have almost another chapter written already. Whee! I won't promise you anything because real life always interferes most irritatingly when I make promises like that. I'd like to say a big thank you to all the new story followers & favorites! Thank you all for enjoying what I'm doing with this story! Please leave a review, I love reading what you have to say!**

**Some personal review replies, as I have the time now:**

**articcat, glad you like Scorpius. He is a cute little bugger, and it's nice to have a little levity. We'll see him again, I promise.**

**KEZZ, glad you're still lovin' it!**

**susannajulia, so happy another scientist is reading and enjoying the details! Glad you like it thus far!**

**viola, ah, that is a mystery, isn't it...you'll have to wait and see!**

**zeeksmom, you make me want to make more use of my thesaurus! Thank you for your kind words regarding their relationship and marriage. I, too, think there is a lot to wade into here, and I am having a good time getting mucky with the complications of a forced marriage between two people who likely wouldn't have thought of each other as potential spouses at all.**

**AlesiaG, I can only say, 'Excellent! Excellent!' in my best Mr. Burns impression. After all it would it would be far too boring if you could predict what is happening at this stage. Keep those eagle eyes peeled for clues, you're keeping me honest! :)**

**MystiqueFairy, not to worry-I promise to always complete my stories, barring some disastrous event. Right now I'm very busy in work but the summer is coming, the summer is coming...which means updates will be more frequent. Seems like my updates are weekly now, but that will probably pick up in a month or so.**

**Redshadow, keep reading and reviewing! Thank you for enjoying my unfettered imaginings.**

**The Light from Within, I think you're pulling out some interesting interpretations of the dynamic between Lucius and Hermione. There are advantages that come from experience, and Lucius was already a master of manipulation. I think what is interesting for me is how he can cloak those motives, but somehow Hermione gets her darts in without sometimes him even realizing it. It's an interesting relationship and it's fun to explore it as I'm writing, because the dynamics are sometimes subtle, sometimes wild. I've enjoyed your reviews, please keep leaving them! As always, I own nothing but the plot, all characters and the HP world belong to JKR.**

**Ok, on to the fun stuff, as they say. As always, please let me know what you think!**

* * *

The changes made around the department were subtle and mostly unnoticed by those who worked there. Hermione's Aurors had become a feature which elicited discreet sneers from a few who were bold enough to throw them her way when they thought Lucius wasn't looking. Her co-workers had never been afraid of her, but they were afraid of Lucius. After all, he had power over them, and he wielded it with the precision of a vindictive surgeon. After Mulgrew was fired for mouthing off to Hermione during one heated meeting over the niffler experiments, the rest of the department got the message loud and clear: Hermione Malfoy had a new protector in her husband, and Circe help the wizard who insulted her. The Minister himself made an unprecedented _two_ visits to the division over the next few weeks as well, smugly shown around by Lucius himself. If there were any doubt that Malfoy was well secured in his role as department head, that put the final nail in those rumors. Of course, it helped that Yasmin let it slip that Kingsley was possibly thinking of elevating him to a junior minister…

Hermione was pursuing the Muggle screen, as they had come to call it, with a vengeance that suited her personality and intense work style. She even allowed Lucius to pass off some of the early screening work to Jessamine, who was adept with the figures and equations in a way that demonstrated again why Lucius had hired her. The blonde had wisely refrained from attempting to pick her brain about her honeymoon with her 'dreamy' husband after one awkward chat which Hermione had instantly cut off. Now, a few weeks after their honeymoon and the Muggle screen was ready. She sighed and sat back in her chair. Finally Pius would be able to set out the carefully designed bait, and hopefully they would catch the thief who attempted to take it.

Hermione was in her weekly meeting with Lucius, the room carefully warded with silencing spells, when her stomach roiled uncomfortably.

"And you're sure that there are enough sets to make this attractive?" Hermione asked, ignoring the unpleasant sensations assaulting her.

"Yes, this will do nicely. I will ensure Kingsley and Pius know what to expect, and the trap will be laid. With luck the thief…"

Hermione tuned him out, her stomach deeply unhappy. "Excuse me, Lucius, I'm going to be sick."

Lucius looked up from the paperwork and had enough sense to quickly whisk it away before his wife vomited all over the table between them. Ensuring the papers were out of the way, he walked around the table swiftly and pulled her hair away from her face, conjuring a damp handkerchief to wipe her mouth for her when she was done, her body shuddering from the force.

"I'm not feeling very well," she whispered as he vanished the mess and pushed her down into a chair, crouching beside her so he could see her face.

"Obviously. I think I need to take you home."

"No, I'll be fine, I'm sure." Lucius took in her pale cheeks and shook his head as she looked at him.

"Dear wife, if this is what I expect it is, it will not be going away anytime soon."

* * *

Lucius was unfortunately correct, damn him to the deepest pits of hell. Hermione dragged her head away from the toilet that had become her best friend over the past few weeks. She was plagued with morning sickness so virulent that she hadn't been able to return to work for weeks! All the cushioning charms in the world could not ameliorate the way she was beginning to detest, loathe, and despise their bathroom. When he popped in to check on her, she told him so.

"I hate this room. I want to rip it all out and redecorate it. It's hideous. I hate the marble. It's cold and ugly and so…so…discouraging!" She hissed in anger as a tear made its way down her cheek. She hated this loss of control, feeling so weak she had sometimes crawled back to their bed. Lucius had assigned the elves to help her when he had to go to the Ministry, but being department head he could only curtail his hours so much. She had furiously ordered them from the room. Once she had had to resort to summoning Smidgen to help her onto the bed, but she absolutely refused to be treated like an invalid.

"We can certainly remodel it if it pleases you," Lucius said, then helped her up and back to their bed, summoning Twigs. "Potion number seven, please, Twigs."

The house elf bowed and disapparated, reappearing instantly with a vial of potion. Hermione eyed it with distaste. "Not another one, Lucius. They aren't helping at all."

"We will find the right one, Hermione. It just takes time." He smoothed her hair back from her forehead. "Please. It is something of a Malfoy specialty, and I promise you, we will find the right combination for you, and then it will be better."

"Not now, please, Lucius. I beg you." Her eyes closed tiredly and Lucius spoke quietly to Twigs, who disapparated again with a pop.

"What did the medi-witch say?" Lucius asked, giving no sign of his irritation at missing Pomfrey's house call. It had been a meeting with Shacklebolt and Thicknesse regarding the chumming they had been doing about the profiles Hermione had come up with. He had agreed to Hermione's request for Poppy despite the fact that the woman had been retired for three years, wondering if she doubted him and the Malfoy Apothecary nausea potions she had been trying at his urging and that of the two healers who had checked on her at St. Mungo's. It wasn't like they weren't renowned for their beneficial effects for expecting mothers, one of the reasons the Malfoy coffers were so healthy. Sales had always been brisk for that particular business for good reason.

"She said the baby is healthy, but I'm underweight. I'm to eat more—as if I want any more familiarity with our toilet!" Hermione's tone was scathing and Lucius knew she was incredibly frustrated with the depth of her morning sickness, which was not restricted to the morning at all.

"I'm sorry, pet. Can you be persuaded to have something to eat? Toast and scotch broth?" His expression was kind, his grey eyes smooth and Hermione felt peevishly annoyed with him for being so composed while she was so damn miserable.

"Was Narcissa like this with Draco?" she asked him with some heat, and Lucius was experienced enough to know what was coming. "You knew I would be like this, didn't you?"

"Nooo, I did not. Every witch handles pregnancy differently, as you are well aware, Hermione." He paused and could see that this answer was not going to satisfy her. "However, there are those who believe that the stronger the magic of the baby, the more adversely the mother will be affected. Something to do with the competing magical influences until the baby's magic is fully formed, as it were."

Normally Hermione was not inclined to give credence to unsupported myths, but it seemed to fit. The Malfoy men were hardly magical dunderheads—Lucius and Draco both were highly talented, capable wizards. She mused on what Ginny had said during her brief visit last week.

"I was sick for three months, Hermione, with both of them. I don't enjoy that part at all, but they are worth it in the end."

Ginny herself had just owled to say she had found out she was pregnant again, so she was pretty well housebound at the moment. Hermione felt all they needed was for Lavender to fall pregnant to inflict a trifecta of misery on Harry and Ron.

"Damn you Lucius," she groaned, and he quickly slipped into the bed behind her, scooting her forward gently so he could massage her shoulders, pressing a kiss on her neck as he did so.

"I have good news about the red herring. It seems likely that the interested parties will act very soon. There has been an uptick of chatter about the profiles now that you are not in the office daily. An unoccupied workstation is a highly attractive target."

Hermione grimaced as his hands hit a sore spot between her shoulders, then said grumpily, "I'm glad this is of some meager use, then."

"You're growing a new life, Hermione. You're allowed to let your body focus on that for the time being."

"I don't like being so ill. I feel so miserable."

Lucius could hear the tears threatening in her voice again, and he turned her head to kiss her softly, then cast the same mouth cleansing charm he'd used months ago. His eyes were thoughtful and teasing as he met her own.

"Hmmm, still better than slugs I have to say."

She laughed against her will, then elbowed him, eliciting a small 'oomph' when her elbow connected with his ribcage. He was still dressed in his formal black, dark blue cravat and tightly buttoned waistcoat still immaculate.

"So violent! Anyone who didn't know you would think it was _you_ who is the ex-Death Eater," he said sassily, sliding from the bed just seconds before Twigs was back carrying a tray. "I would like Draco to take a look at you and cast a few diagnostics after you take that potion. It might help us figure out what is disagreeing with you in them, and then we can make you something customized."

"So I won't have to take that potion for a few hours?" Hermione asked, eyeing the vial with a moue of distaste.

"Yes."

"Fine."

"And I brought you the latest niffler results, which I will gladly go over with you—" he held them out of her grasping fingers gently, "—provided you eat the meal which Twigs has brought. Are we agreed?"

Hermione resisted the half-hearted urge to argue. She was being petulant and she knew it. "I'm sorry. I know rationally this isn't your fault. My own mother was as sick as a dog while carrying me, I don't know why I expected it to be different. I just thought that being magical, magic would make it all magically better. Foolish of me, I know."

"Hmmm. Perhaps refreshingly naïve."

She could tell that he was laughing at her a bit, and she threw three pillows at him in quick succession, then pulled her wand quickly and hexed him with a small stinging charm. "THAT was for laughing at me, you pillock!"

"It's a very fortunate thing that you are incapable of dueling at present, witch, or I'd make you pay for that. As it is, I shall have to content myself with your cursing when you take this in a few hours," Lucius said, holding up the vial. The one thing that could not be said about the increasingly strong potions was that they possessed a pleasing flavor. It was simply not possible to flavor the pregnancy nausea potions at the level of strength that would require. Sales were brisk because they worked, not because they tasted nice. He watched his wife eat, chatting to her about inconsequential Ministry gossip to distract her and hopefully help her keep the food down. He was worried about her, although he wouldn't admit it to her. It would give her mind another thing to fuss over, and make her more exhausted than she already was.

"Now, about those niffler results," Hermione began, setting the tray aside and holding her hands out for the paperwork.

* * *

Lucius wasted no time in going to the Floo when he left Hermione dozing in their room, his tactic of distraction working for now to keep the food in her system. Hopefully she would stay asleep long enough for it to do some good.

"Healer Malfoy's office, St. Mungo's," he said clearly into the flames, then popped his head into the green haze. He had no intention of leaving the Manor again today if he could possibly help it.

"Father. What do you need?" Draco asked, coming over to crouch down in front of the standard size and quite boringly plain fireplace. At least he had an office with one, a luxury that was not afforded to all Healers on the register of the hospital.

"I'd like you to take a look at Hermione, please. The standard potions from the apothecary aren't cutting it, and I'd like your opinion."

"Is it urgent?" Draco asked, throwing a _Tempus_ on the wall. "I've got two more patients to check if not."

"No. Just let me know when you're home."

Lucius completed a few more Floo calls, at least satisfied that his Ministry affairs would hum along nicely in his absence for the rest of the day. Yasmin had been particularly effusive with her descriptions of Jessamine's wedding planning and the gossip making the rounds about Milton Brandefort's latest gambling losses, supposedly to an Auror, although nobody knew who. Lucius tut-tutted satisfactorily and thanked Yasmin for keeping him informed of the department goings-on, then rang off. He considered owling Yaxley but thought the better of it when Smidgen popped in and bowed fearfully.

"Master, the Mistress is in the bathroom again."

Lucius popped into the master bedroom suite and held Hermione's hair back again as she vomited into the toilet. Her cheeks were pale and he conjured a glass of water for her to sip when she slumped back, finished for now.

"This can't continue, Lucius," Hermione said, her brown eyes tired. "I'm only six weeks along. I can't handle this."

"You can, and you will." He was firm and unrelenting, as he needed to be. It bothered him on a visceral level when she didn't argue with him, merely passively held the water and stared at the wall.

"Let me get you off the floor," he said, lifting her himself and bringing her back to their room. On impulse he settled himself on the bed with her in his arms. It was the right decision, because she cried into his robes. He sighed with annoyance and vanished them and the coat underneath, leaving simply a shirt to be wet.

_Bloody hormones_, he thought, but was wise enough not to say it. Somehow he suspected that Hermione was going to eclipse Narcissa when it came to magical outbursts during her third trimester of pregnancy. Best store up goodwill chits now. Her crying ebbed until she sat upright rapidly, nearly knocking his chin with her skull by the rapidity of the movement, pushing herself back so she could look at him.

"Clearly my body is disagreeing with pregnancy as violently as wormwood rejects dittany. How can I possibly carry this child to term?"

Ah. She was worried about the baby. Lucius recalled her statements about her mother's pregnancies and miscarriages, and sought to ease her worries.

"You have been told by no less than three qualified healers that the baby is perfectly healthy. I myself have checked you thoroughly for traces of Dark magic. The only person who is struggling with their health is you, wife. And that is precisely why I am here, and why you are going to take this potion in, oh, less than half an hour, and then Draco and I will monitor you to see exactly what is disagreeing with your magic." The wrinkle persisted on her brow and Lucius perceived that she was not done turning over the issue; indeed it was clear to him that it had been gnawing at her for days and days, this utter failure of her body to obey her. Her next words confirmed this suspicion, at least giving him a place to go with the hope of calm to follow.

"I am incensed by this! I have never encountered a problem I could not solve! For something so trivial to dictate my entire day—I just cannot take it! It's so frustrating—I can't even find enough energy to brew my own potions, I have to rely on you and your damn company's pre-packaged product like I'm some idiotic housewife! What good is my vast intellect if I'm rendered utterly incompetent by _pregnancy_? This child is doomed, if it can even survive the hostile environment which is my womb, apparently!" Hermione's voice vibrated hollowly, her expression indicating how keenly she felt let down by her abilities, her hands gesturing toward her abdomen like it was a foreign appendage.

"All of your sickness is an indicator of a very healthy and hospitable environment for our child. It is your body's way of protecting the baby from any possibility of food-borne illness or magical attack. Or had you not noticed the discomfort of being in the Ministry the last time you persuaded me to let you attempt it?"

"That is an old wives' tale," Hermione said. "I don't believe in any of that nonsense, and that includes your assertion that my degree of illness is a reflection of our child's magical potency. I've never heard of anything so ridiculous."

"Does it matter?" Lucius waited a beat, and knew that he had scored considerably with that strike. "I thought not. So relax and recite to yourself the ingredients in Baum's Potente Philter for Pregnant and Parturient Patients, because that is what you will be taking."

Hermione groaned as she started mentally reciting the list of ingredients for the potion. "You can't be serious—thestral placenta?"

"Whose family fortune is based on potions?" Lucius' face was arch and Hermione pettily stuck her tongue out at him.

"In the last century...and your expertise was eclipsed by Severus Snape, just as I surpassed your son in both OWLs and NEWT scores for Potions," she retorted churlishly.

"You would not have beaten mine," Lucius riposted gracefully, rising from the bed with the fluid grace that Hermione secretly envied. "Ah, Draco. Just _on_ time, as usual."

Draco raised an eyebrow at this subtle sign of his father's tetchiness, but chose to ignore it, walking over to Hermione. If he had any thoughts about seeing his former classmate in his mother's place, he kept them to himself. It was admittedly _odd_, but it seemed like they got along well enough, if their bedroom antics were anything to go by. Thank Merlin that had tapered off with her being so sick. He wouldn't even let Scorpius into this wing of the house after their honeymoon.

"All right Granger, let's get this done. Oh, and Astoria wants a 'chat'. I suspect she wants to commiserate with you—she was sicker than a gryphon scratched by a dragon when she was pregnant with Scorpius."

"Does every bloody witch get as sick as a dog while pregnant?" Hermione asked, ignoring the vial of potion Lucius was holding out.

"Don't put it off, Hermione, or I'll pour it down your throat," he said with more than his usual menace, which was Hermione's first inkling of how worried Lucius actually was about her.

"I hate you right now," she said with real malice after she swallowed what had to rank as the most noxious potion she had ever swallowed, and that was saying something after the taste of Bellatrix Lestrange's Polyjuice.

"Because I know how you adore me otherwise, pet," Lucius replied, casting diagnostics in tandem with Draco. Both were more well-versed in these types of spells than appearances would suggest, another little Malfoy secret that had allowed their company to thrive through successive generations. The Malfoy patriarchs had all been harsh tutors in the subjects related to their business interests, which had profited the family legacy immeasurably.

"Hmmm, do you see that?" Lucius observed, and knew that Draco had seen it as well.

"Yes. A mild allergy to the tincture of asphodel, or the gerslane," Draco said.

"I've never been allergic to either of those before," Hermione was fascinated now, her intellect running through a half dozen possibilities.

"Pregnancy causes a lot of changes. Things which your body might tolerate otherwise might become anathema. Hence the reason to have so many different anti-nausea potions for pregnant women," Lucius said.

"There may be more," Draco said, checking the time. "Another ten minutes and we'll know, one way or another."

"Why?" Hermione said in a sudden outrush of breath, and Lucius lifted an eyebrow to Draco.

"Because you're going to toss all of it back up by then, unless I'm wrong—and I never am, princess," Draco said smarmily, causing Lucius to cast a mild stinging hex on his son.

"Watch how you address my wife, peer or not."

Draco muttered something to himself about poncy parents, but continued casting diagnostic spells fluidly alongside Lucius.

"There. It's the gingerroot." Lucius was triumphant, and Draco reluctantly agreed.

"Looks like it."

"Ginger is supposed to _help_ nausea, not induce it!" Hermione said, fighting with all her might to keep down the dreadful concoction that felt as though it had grown claws and was trying to climb its way out of her esophagus. She would not throw it up now, not for all the tea in China, with Draco watching with amusement. Lucius caught her eye and she could tell that he knew she was overcoming the urge to vomit by sheer willpower. At least he had the good sense to not look amused.

"I'm going to tell Astoria how wretchedly dreadful you're being," Hermione said nastily to Draco before she rushed to the loo and emptied the entire potion and whatever remained in her stomach into the toilet. Lucius wordlessly accompanied her and offered her a clean, damp handkerchief when she was through, casting a stasis charm over the bowl before she could flush it.

"Are you serious?" she asked him in disbelief as Draco entered the bathroom soundlessly, looking annoyed.

"Best not to think about it," Lucius said, helping her up. "Besides, this means we will finally get the right potion for you, so you can look forward to not repeating the experience soon."

"I certainly hope so," Hermione said, swishing her mouth with the breath freshener offered, then spitting it into the sink.

* * *

"Are you sure about this?" The wizard was nervous, flicking his wand from hand to hand as if he expected trouble. Granted, that was mostly wise in this part of Knockturn Alley, but it was annoying the other wizard at the table and he put a stop to it by flicking his own wand once.

"Enough." The voice was quiet and commanding, laced with enough venom that the younger man opposite him straightened up and ceased his fidgeting. "Tonight. Do it quickly or you will have the Unspeakables on you. I doubt they will be kind to one in your shoes. You know what to do once you have it."

"Fine," the man whined. "What about my—" he was cut off by a silencing charm before he could say anything further.

"You will get exactly what you deserve from this arrangement. Nothing more, nothing less. You may say 'thank you'."

"Thank you, master."

Satisfied, the older wizard slid from the booth. There would be something worthwhile to work with after tonight, he was quite sure of that. Either way, he would win.

* * *

The Ministry was as silent as a burial ground at this time of night. On the floor for the DMM the silence was oppressive, reflecting the many magical boundaries and wards imposed on the myriad rooms and passageways to who knew where which gave the department its name. It was on this level that a wizard skulked in the shadows, intent on a particular room. It had no designation, as with any other room on this level, but he unerringly walked straight for it, compelled to seek the information his master required.

The spells set over this chamber were complex and layered, requiring a good deal of skill from the one attempting to break them. Fortunately he was adept at this sort of thing, a small line on his résumé when he was hired but one his daytime employers had not made use of. It felt pleasant to use them again, rather like dusting off a half-forgotten project in one's cupboard. He slipped inside and locked the door with a simple spell that a deadly flashback to any that attempted to breach it. He found the data and was in the process of copying it when he felt a minor flutter, the only warning that someone else was here. He turned in a flash and sent a well-aimed stunner, slicing hex, and shield charm.

"Wrong order," the Unspeakable said, easily deflecting the first two and landing a slicing hex of his own. Another Unspeakable popped in silently behind the errant wizard, whose senses were well trained enough to realize the presence of an additional attacker. He backed to the side of the room and dueled both of them briefly, at least capable of protecting himself if he didn't manage to land any blows of his own. Finally he felt the chill in the air, as the very warmth of his soul seemed to be sucked out of him. He collapsed as the grey shroud hovered into view, still clutching his wand but unable to cast a Patronus before, and certainly not able to draw the wherewithal to do so under extreme duress.

"But Dementors are banished," he whispered, taking in the two Unspeakables watching him dispassionately.

"Boggart," one offered helpfully, kicking the wand away as it fell from his grasp. The other put the Boggart back in the box and stunned the wretch.

"Almost too easy, Yves."

"No almost about it. Too easy."

* * *

On the sixth level, the current home of the Department of Magical Research, another intruder slipped silently through the corridors. Teams of Aurors and Unspeakables were stationed, some invisible, throughout the floor, but this intruder was going through the Department of Magical Transportation, which was significantly less well defended.

Finding the particular cubby of an office that belonged to an exceedingly minor clerk in the Apparation Test Centre, a series of complex charms were applied to uncover and then enlarge a rat hole. Few cared to remember, but the Ministry had suffered a terrible problem with rats during the bubonic plague. The disease didn't affect wizards, but the building itself at its lowest levels attracted the vermin, and the skeleton of the structure was left intact, but rather built upon as the Ministry grew and changed. Here at the lowest levels, the rat holes were extensive. It was a matter of knowing how to look for them.

"Stupid preservationists," the intruder scoffed, easing through a passageway that was just large enough to wiggle through. Standing again, the prize gleamed under the weight of massive and nasty wards. The intruder smiled and began to work.

It took over an hour. An hour during which no fewer than three hidden and two overt surveys were made of the area. They detected nothing, which was as it should be. Finally the information was bare, ready for removal. No copying here. The theft would be known, and bragged about in certain, discreet circles.

Pausing and tilting an ear toward the door, the brief flash of a curse saw a wand being wielded with skill and alacrity. This intruder was not like the buffoon in the DMM, a fact which became readily apparent as no fewer than six wizards were engaged, some being maimed in the process. Shouts rang out in the darkness, a particularly effective atmospheric curse removing all the flashes from curses, rendering the room completely opaque to normal vision. An Animorphmagus could still see, of course, and the intruder slipped out through the hole by which it had come, silently commanding the useful idiot to do his job. Satisfied with the ensuing chaos as spells with deadly force were brought to bear, the intruder slipped away into the night.


	18. Into the Deep

**A bit shorter than I've been treating you to recently but it's a good place to break for the story as a chapter. Thank you thank you for the new followers & faves! Please, just hit the review button and offer a crumb, a thought, anything! **

**To my faithful reviewers, you are the best! I had to put this up for you today, because you are all so good about leaving me reviews! Truly lovely, I thank you so much for your insights. I just love reading your speculations and reflections on what has happened thus far. **

**The poem quoted is "Midnight" by James Russell Lowell. It's a quick read that I recommend for those of you who are interested. Lucius also makes a reference to a Nietsche quote about evil. Please, review with your tidbits! Thank you! Reminder: I own nothing, alas!**

* * *

Lucius received no fewer than six owls the next morning, a veritable line-up of them tapping noisily on the windowsill of his bedroom. Damning them for their noise, he slipped from the bed and cast a _Silencio_ around it, the bed curtains drawing closed with a flick of his wand.

"Ah, to be popular again," Lucius quipped to himself, drawing his robe tight before he slit the first seal. He scanned the message briefly, showing no visible reaction. Next a message from Kingsley, then Yaxley, then Thicknesse.

"O wild and wondrous midnight, there is a might in thee," he quoted absentmindedly, turning over the clues in his mind.

"To make the charmed body almost like spirit be," Hermione continued, shoving aside the curtains and eyeing her husband suspiciously. "What happened?"

"I _did_ just cast a silencing spell, I'm quite sure," Lucius mused, tapping the missive he'd been reading against his lips. "Tell me, how is it that you heard me?"

"A woman never reveals her secrets," Hermione said craftily, twisting her hair into a messy updo that she secured with her wand.

"Too true, pet, too true." Lucius released the last two letters from the remaining owls, one of which Hermione recognized as Harry's. He snapped to call a house elf, and ordered owl treats for the six owls that were jostling each other on the windowsill. That sorted, he watched them all fly off before closing the window and returning to the bed, handing her the missive from Potter.

"You will nag me like a fishwife, so you may as well read it aloud, dear."

"Pest." Hermione bolted from the bed and Lucius heard her retching, for once not going to assist her. It gave him precious minutes to read the last bit of his correspondence in private, a very necessary measure.

"You didn't help me," she groused when she returned, still swishing the breath freshening potion in her cheek. She swallowed it daringly, even though it might make a reappearance in short order. She wanted to know what had caused a veritable parliament of owls to congregate at their window.

"No, I did not." Lucius stood and handed her Potter's note which she had discarded in her haste. "The Ministry was broken into last night, and your red herring was swallowed."

"Good," Hermione said, then turned her attention to Harry's note. It was addressed to Lucius, which rankled her somewhat. She was pregnant, not dead—and since when had Harry Potter had more than grudging tolerance for her husband? She could see Lucius watching her in that punctilious manner of his, and began reading aloud.

'_Several injuries to Aurors and Unspeakables last night. A dual prong strategy was employed and a lot of folks are talking about Milton. Fabian is through the roof as that was supposed to be kept quiet. Additional problems revealed—Lynx to discuss in person. Keep H. at home.'_

She looked up indignantly, ignoring the dangerous rumbling of her stomach. That breath freshener had been a really bad idea, but stubbornly she refused to give in to her traitorous body. "As if I'm your pet! I'm going to roundly curse Harry James Potter when I next see him! And what in Circe's name does he mean by 'additional problems'? What Milton is he referring to? Brandefort? Lucius?"

Lucius had to get to the Ministry as soon as possible, which was unfortunately going to delay his ability to relieve Hermione's nausea. However, this was more important for the time being. A deadly game was afoot, and he would miss too much if he didn't get in as quickly as possible. Lucius threw back a glance at her.

"He's dead." That shocked her into silence, albeit it briefly. Lucius ignored her as he shed his pajama pants with quick necessity and started to clothe himself, then thought the better of it and used a spell. The effect was less sharp than dressing himself, but time was of the essence.

"How?" Hermione was going to lose the battle to keep that miniscule amount of breath freshening potion down momentarily, but she wasn't going to let Lucius leave without telling her.

"A dark curse, triggered when the Aurors stupefied him. I have to go and make sure nothing else was disturbed. I'll return as soon as I'm able."

He disapparated directly from their bedroom with a muffled pop, further evidence of his distraction if Hermione had been present to hear it. Unfortunately for her, her close relationship with the toilet was again in evidence.

* * *

"Damn," Lucius said quietly as he examined the auras briefly illuminated by his wand while the Aurors guarding Hermione's office door were distracted. There were too many very dark spells here to be the work of a hired thief, which meant that whoever was inside the Ministry was very dangerous indeed. He eyed the room carefully, casting a very low power _Indago_.

The Unspeakables had been through hurriedly, but they had not come back through with their curse breakers yet, leaving the initial search to the Aurors. The DMM preferred to work incognito anyway, which meant they'd like isolate the office and come back to do their work at night. As the head of the division, however, Lucius had every right to assess the office for himself—doubly so as it was his wife's, albeit recently unused.

He swept his wand carefully and slowly, following a protective arc that was itself considered a piece of Dark magic when it was fused to this particular spell. Lucius had no idea why, given the purely protective nature of the charm, but such things as pointless classifications of spellwork had never stopped him before, and it wouldn't stop him now. It took time, and thanks to leaving so early, Lucius had that. Underwood was the earliest bird of the ones that worried him, but he was at St. Mungo's this morning, and would stay there for at least an hour yet if his conscientiousness about his Aurors was anything to go by. Slowly, slowly, Lucius moved methodically through the office, acerbically gratified that he'd denied his wife a larger office when the division had moved to this floor a year ago. Finally his wand touched the edge of something dark and violent, sending a curl of malevolence toward his wand for picking it up. Well used to such recoil, Lucius continued the pass of his wand that dispelled the defensive mechanism of the curse, then withdrew to a safe distance to cast a different spell that showed its location precisely. It glowed a dark purple, hidden underneath the desk. He didn't doubt that it was keyed to Hermione specifically.

"The abyss looks into me," Lucius remarked, drawing back. He was many things, but he was no more than exceptional at curse breaking. This curse was intricate and practically breathed malevolence. This was something for the DMM and their best curse breakers.

"Malfoy. A word." Lucius looked up and met the Minister's gaze, then waved him over, his wand still steady.

"That," he said softly, with a nod toward the desk, as if his voice raised too loudly would activate the curse, "is why I will not be allowing my wife to recover too quickly from her illness."

Kingsley brought his own wand to bear, and wisely withdrew quickly. "This is growing very dangerous, Lucius. I think it's time to see if you're really the man I think you are."

His dark eyes were intent, and Lucius took a deep breath, then nodded. "I think I need not remind you of your promise of a failsafe, Shacklebolt. I'm not Snape to be commanded at whim."

"Understood."

That was all that needed to be said, then. Lucius drew his shoulders back and left the room with an authoritative stride, leaving Kingsley with a darkly speculative look on his face. Whoever had done this, as dangerous as they were, was not the real problem. The real problem was that someone was pulling the strings from within the Ministry's upper echelons. He only hoped their chumming had roused the real shark—and that there wasn't more than one of them.

* * *

"Yaxley." Lucius' tone was as pleasant as an eavesdropper would expect to find it, given the disruptions in his division.

"Malfoy," Calvin greeted him, sticking to the mutually agreed surnames at work. "How may I assist you? I trust this is something to do with the night's unpleasantness downstairs, hmmm?" He motioned Lucius into his office and then locked the door and silenced the room.

"How astute of you," Lucius drily remarked, idly turning a memo around to read it. "Cornelia Dextrose is such a meddlesome bitch, isn't she?"

"Oh, but we cannot _ignore_ the dangers of Floo travel when routine inspections are not achieved, don't you know?" Calvin's tone was equally dry, and Lucius felt it appropriate to drop casually into the stiff chair in front of Yaxley's desk.

"Yes, well, about last night's goings on—I am terribly afraid that the thief will be disappointed with their haul. Hermione assures me it was an incomplete set, and she's split her data sets between our division and the DMM, at Kingsley's insistence."

"I'll bet Thicknesse is beside himself over that. It's not one of his division who's dying in Mungo's now, is it? I don't trust those Unspeakables as far as I can hex them." The tinge of bitterness to Yaxley's tone was evident. He was still peeved that a man he considered an inferior wizard was placed in charge of the more elite DMM instead of himself. Of course he and Lucius both knew that it had been Yaxley who had Imperiused Pius, but that was something that was going to remain well cloaked amongst themselves. So few of the inner circle Death Eaters remained, and, well, some things were sacred, weren't they?

"They are slippery bastards. I wouldn't be surprised if Thicknesse had moved the data off site entirely, but Shacklebolt is giving nothing away." Lucius was cool and calm in his agreement, which somehow gave the impression of wholehearted concurrence but was in fact a middling acquiescence with Calvin's complaint and nothing more.

"Doubtless he has. I don't know who is behind this, Lucius, but I can tell you that Underwood is doing his best to undermine me here, and Pius is doing his best to undercut me from without. Add in the decidedly expensive favor you've asked for, and I have to say that I haven't felt so stressed in years."

A red-winged memo flew into Yaxley's office, which he read immediately. "Fuck. I have to get to Mungo's, Lucius. It's not looking like they're going to be able to save Fortenod."

"I'm terribly sorry," Lucius said sincerely, the words stiff. Neither one could really offer true sympathy over death anymore, only a dreadful pantomime of what was socially expected. It was a hardened side effect of the war, but it didn't render it any less callous.

"I'll have to spend time with his family. Fuck me, I hope there are no young children." Yaxley was muttering now as he donned his outer robes and Lucius followed him out the door.

"If I were you, Lucius, I'd make more of an appearance at the club. There have been…rumblings."

"Duly noted."

Nodding, Calvin strode off, leaving Lucius with another visit to make. He headed to the eighth floor and Pius Thicknesse's office. The man was in the middle of a meeting with an Unspeakable regarding last evening, and after a brief interruption by Thicknesse's slender male secretary, William, Lucius was ushered into Pius' office. The Unspeakable had departed via the mysterious exit they had, and Lucius shook Pius' hand.

"Terribly upsetting business last evening, Pius."

"Indeed, Lucius. Although we are hardly surprised, are we?"

"No. Any updates from your inquiries regarding the potions?"

Pius steepled his fingers and looked at him. "I'd have rather thought that was more your bailiwick than mine, Lucius."

"And indeed it would be, were it not for the fact that my wife was the target. As such, my inquiries will doubtless bear no fruit."

Pius arched an eyebrow. "Probably not. Nonetheless, we are faring little better. There is little to be heard, which leads me to believe the ingredients were hand procured."

"That in and of itself is useful information," Lucius replied easily.

"As you say." He tapped a file thoughtfully on his desk. "Have you made your wife aware of those particular attempts on her life?"

"No, nor do I intend to do so. She hardly needs the worry, does she?" Lucius said nothing further, but let the man make of that what he will.

"Hmmmm." Pius was clearly disturbed, but chose not to pursue it. "I intend to continue asking Kingsley to transfer it all to here. I don't think I need remind you that we had no difficulties last evening in this part of the Ministry."

"Yes, but you also do not share a floor with another department," Lucius replied coolly. "And you did assure me that the Unspeakables would manage the situation satisfactorily. I think we both agree that the deaths of a suspect and an Auror are hardly satisfactory."

"Not going to make it, is he? I hadn't heard…" Pius paused. "And I hardly need to remind you that you are not the Minister, Lucius. I do not doubt that I shall hear a sufficient amount of invective from Underwood, then Yaxley, and finally Kingsley, if it does turn out that my teams performed to less than their highest level. Frankly, I doubt that will be proven to be the case. I suspect you'd rather have more satisfaction from asking Fabian how it is that his Aurors don't know how to deflect the _Rigor Mortis_."

"Is that what it was? I hadn't heard," Lucius said, drawing his hands together. "You must understand that given the timing of everything recently, I find it most disheartening to not have apprehended the subject."

"Naturally, you're quite pissed off. I'd expect anyone would be. Nonetheless, I suggest you direct your ire in more circumspect directions. Let me do my job, and you do yours."

"As if I were in need of a reminder," Lucius retorted coolly, then stood. "I believe we understand each other."

"Quite."

Lucius did not have to go looking for Fabian Underwood, as the man was waiting for him when he returned to his own office.

"Fabian. How convenient."

Yasmin blinked up at him with her saccharin smile. "Mr. Underwood has been waiting for twenty minutes, sir. I offered him tea or coffee, but he swears that the Ministry stuff doesn't suit him."

"I hardly blame him," Lucius replied to his secretary, bestowing a pretty kiss on her hand. "As always, Yasmin, you exceed yourself."

"Flatterer." It wafted behind them as Lucius entered his office, Underwood following him with a measured clip that did little to disguise his agitation.

"All right, Malfoy, I'm well enough aware that I'm not a member of the old wizards' network, but you have to know that I've just about had it with all the skulking that's been going on about this case."

"Sit?" Lucius drawled, gesturing to the empty chair with his hand. It was a plusher chair than you'd find in the typical Ministry office, a simple transfiguration he found easy to achieve and useful when facing antagonistic Ministry pollywogs.

Fabian halted mid-tirade, and took a look at the chair before sitting. "Thank you. Now, as I was saying, it's about time someone told me what—"

"Indeed, you are quite right. Please do accept my apologies—the Minister is very close-mouthed, as you know. But given the events of last night…" Lucius trailed off helpfully, and Fabian picked up his lead.

"Exactly so! How was it that my Aurors were the only ones there at that time of night, I ask you? Supposedly the Unspeakables were present, but you and I know that is a load of bollocks. And how is it that two Unspeakables were incapable of lending aid to one of my best teams? I understand there was a second attacker, but the simultaneous nature of events made it plain to my Aurors that—"

"—something quite cleverly planned was going on, yes, of course they would recognize that. And I've had it from Pius personally that the Unspeakables were quite engaged with the assailant, I assure you. I completely understand your frustration, Fabian. But surely you've brought this up to Yaxley…?" Lucius' expression was concerned, his hand waving in an affectation very similar to Hermione's gesticulations when she was trying to make a point.

"Of course I have spoken to Calvin, it was the first thing I did after he spoke to Fortenod's family at Mungo's. Nonetheless, he insisted he is not at liberty to share any more details, and given your highly personal investment in the matter I felt sure you would see my point of view, Lucius." The man was pleading again, something which Lucius could not permit. Time to redirect and hope he took the cue to 'fetch', as it were. He adopted a menacing expression and leaned forward as if imparting sacred information.

"When I find out who is behind this, I assure you Fabian, I'm going to kill them." His tone was menacing, and he allowed a hint of anger to flash in his eyes.

"Oh, I say, Malfoy, we both know you wouldn't do that…" Underwood hedged, and Lucius knew he would go scurrying to Kingsley in short order.

"Oh, of course not," he said, leaning back again casually, as if he hadn't meant a word. "Shacklebolt would hardly approve, would he?"

"Erm, no. Well, please keep me informed of what you hear, would you? I know you and Yaxley go back a ways—" Lucius ignored this less than subtle dig at their shared Death Eater past—"but it really is going to bite you quite viciously if my Aurors aren't fully briefed when protecting Mrs. Malfoy, hmm?"

Feeling like he'd won his point, Underwood dismissed himself from Lucius' office.

"Fool," he sneered at the closed door, then sighed. "One more meeting, then I can go home."

* * *

"May I come in?"

Hermione looked up from the sequencing she was trying to parse between trips to the toilet and various broths and tisanes being pressed on her by Smidgen. She had to admit the house elf was persistent.

"Of course, Astoria," she said, and was unsurprised when Scorpius came along. "Hello Scorpius."

"You look terrible," he returned in greeting, with the plain honesty of the very young.

"Scorpius, that is not how we greet someone who is ill."

"Why?"

Hermione couldn't help a small smile. "Because it's rude, but only if the person doesn't agree with you." She winked and the little boy scrambled onto the bed, sending the papers into disarray.

"Let me get that for you," Astoria said, waving her wand and organizing them by page number.

"Thank you. I only hope you've timed your visit well, I might need the necessary again shortly," Hermione informed her.

"I'm sure they will find the right potion. Draco seemed certain of it last night. I'm surprised Lucius isn't brewing it now." Astoria had turned to put the papers on her desk, her wand flicking easily as she ensured the papers stayed neat, thus missing the shocked look on Hermione's face.

"Can you do a trick for me?" Scorpius begged, tugging on her arm and distracting her thoughts.

"Um, well, I'm not feeling terribly up to it at the moment…perhaps an origami would do?" Hermione felt his tug of disappointment, but she was very depleted, energy-wise, and it would be best not to attempt it.

"Here," Astoria said, quickly transfiguring a piece of parchment into a brightly ornamented square of paper and handed it to Hermione.

"Thanks," she said, surprised that Astoria knew what origami was. She realized it was proof of her own prejudices against purebloods, and resolved to ask how Astoria came to know it. "How do you know of origami?"

Astoria watched her hands as she folded the paper, replying, "It was a tactic that my mother often employed to entertain Daphne when she was pregnant with me, she said. Similar reason to why you're doing it now, I suspect."

Her wry humor did not go amiss, and Hermione chuckled, the seahorse taking shape beneath Scorpius' watchful eye.

"Wow!" the little boy said, and Astoria charmed it to wrap its tail around the bed curtains, swimming away when he tried to catch it.

"There, that will keep him occupied for a few minutes anyhow," Astoria said, then looked back at Hermione. "I am truly sorry you are so ill. You must be calling Lucius every name under the sun."

"That goes without saying," Hermione said, then leaned back as Smidgen popped in with yet another tray.

"Please, mistress, eat, eat! Needs to get your strength up, you does!"

Hermione let the elf set the tray on the bed and ate two bites of melba toast. "I hate melba toast," she confessed to Astoria after the elf smiled and popped out.

"Then don't eat it. Have you tried any Muggle foods? I don't know if there is anything from your childhood that sounds good…?" Astoria looked slightly ill at the suggestion of Muggle foodstuffs, but at least she had thought of it, and suggested it. Hermione gave her full marks, as the idea hadn't occurred to her.

"Actually, I could go for some digestive biscuits, possibly. That is a good idea," Hermione said, and Astoria summoned a house elf.

"Firkin, I want you to procure some Muggle food. Some…" Astoria looked at Hermione.

"McVities digestive biscuits," she said, then followed quickly, "But how is a house elf going to…"

Astoria held up her hand, a gesture that could be construed as offensive, but Hermione was too curious now. "Do you understand Firkin?"

"Yes Madame, immediately." The house elf winked out and Astoria turned to answer Hermione's question.

"They usually go into storage areas. They will helpfully drop some Muggle money on the floor or some such, so it's not stealing, but this way we get what we need and the house elves get to be a bit sneaky, which they always relish."

Hermione could see how this would be so after her experiences with Dobby and the house elves at Hogwarts. She would find her room tidied during her SPEW days despite her stern insistence that they desist or let her pay them, with no way to stop it. "I haven't had much experience with house elves," Hermione admitted, and Astoria burst out laughing.

"I really shouldn't say this, but you really were quite made fun of at Hogwarts in Slytherin house. The house elf campaign was during my second year and I'm afraid to say even the first years were sniggering at you."

"As if I cared," Hermione said, chuckling slightly. "At least I bring my own amusement."

"In case you hadn't noticed, so do I," Astoria wryly noted as they both watching Scorpius, who was now swinging like a monkey from the bed curtains in his attempts to catch the seahorse as it flicked by.

Firkin popped back in and offered Hermione a plate with digestive biscuits fanned out. She took one bite and sat back cautiously.

"Tea?" Astoria asked, and Hermione took another bite and tentatively nodded. "Firkin, tea!"

When Astoria pulled Scorpius out, Hermione was eating her second biscuit and had sipped half a cup of tea. Pleased with her success, Astoria resolved to owl Draco immediately.


	19. A Crack in the Mask

**Holiday weekend, so of course a DIY project! Unfortunately for you dear readers, by that I do not mean this lovely piece of fanfiction. However, here is the next chapter. I thank all for reading & enjoying, all new followers & Favorites! I am pleased to have so many of you along for the ride. This is quite eclipsing my previous efforts in terms of length, but I think after a few chapters more I will have a better sense of how many more chapters (don't worry, there will be many-but I need to get an idea in my own head!).**

**More ugliness approaches in further chapters. Just to let you know, the villains in this piece are giving me fits. They are hard to pin down, being so sly by nature, and I'm having trouble attributing which crimes to which individuals. A few accomplices remain in the shadows of my own mind, and that is stifling my attempts to continue a bit, but not to fear, I shall work through and I'm sure that each violent party will get his/her proper credit in due course as the nature of their crimes becomes more apparent. We shall begin to become more international from here on out, but rest assured that Hermione & Lucius shall remain at the center of all machinations. **

**As always, let me know what you think. And of course, I thank JKR for this marvelous universe in which my imagination romps-I own nothing except the plot and my own original characters. Thank you for your very kind and thoughtful reviews. I really appreciate them, and it encourages me greatly in my efforts. I do not want to disappoint you!**

* * *

Lucius apparated just inside the foyer, careful to be silent. Twigs greeted him and took his robes, then waited patiently while Lucius divested himself of his outer coat as well.

"Not to be disturbed, Twigs," he reinforced, although the house elf wouldn't dream of disturbing him without permission or a requirement from Hermione. He made his way downstairs, not as deep as the dungeons but still a well-insulated and sturdy basement. It was practically required for a potions lab, as magical explosions were hard to contain by mere wards alone. Any wizard or witch who attempted brewing without a stone basement was akin to those Muggle fools who synthesized illicit drugs in their homes, in Lucius' opinion.

The lab was neat and orderly, as would only be expected of a Malfoy. Neatness bred clean brewing habits, as his father had said, and his grandfather before him. Lucius tied back his hair and began removing ingredients from the stockroom, checking their freshness carefully. Satisfied with each one, he returned to the bench and began dicing Jerusalem sunchokes, the smell pleasant. The gingerroot was definitely the main problem for his wife, but the gerslane had turned out to be more redolent in the 'remains', as it were, so that was out of the mix as well. Lucius had a different recipe in mind, one which was a proprietary blend that was quite secret, and rarely sold. They usually only sold this one to St. Mungo's in cases of severe nausea for pregnant witches, and thus it was custom brewed when it was required. Severus used to do it for them, but now it had fallen back to Lucius or Draco themselves. It suited both of them to do the occasional batch, and there was no better reason to exercise his potions proficiency than on behalf of his new wife.

As he worked, Lucius mused over what his co-workers had revealed this morning in the various meetings he had held. There was still a rat in his own department, of that he was quite sure. Brandefort was the unfortunate victim of that person, and it was possible the collusion spread beyond a corrupt Auror in the MLE. It seemed that Shacklebolt's caution on matters was prudent, not that he would do things differently himself. He sighed and grimaced as he realized that Potter would have to be told, at a minimum.

"Damn," he muttered to himself, taking out his vexation on the hapless sea urchin spines on the bench, mincing it finer than the recipe called for.

"Do you mind telling me what in the hell you are doing, brewing all those potions for me yourself?"

His hand slipped and he cut a slice from his finger, swearing. "Damn it, woman, have the decency to knock!"

It was swelling now, the blood loss slightly less annoying than the stinging from the mixture of the minced spines and diced axolotl. He withdrew his wand and cleaned the wound, then healed it before vanishing the mess. He would have to chop more, and time was short. "What do you want? And what are you doing out of bed?" he snarled. The last thing he needed was to explain himself to yet another being today, let alone his wife. Who Ought. To be. In. Bed!

The force with which he was rapidly chopping a fresh batch of sea urchin spines gave Hermione a bit of pause. Perhaps it was not a good idea to confront him like this…but no, she was not some timid creature, letting him handle everything!

"Let me do those," Hermione demanded, grabbing the jar of the axolotls in the viscous fluid and shaking four onto the bench after checking his recipe.

"Are you _quite. Sure._ you are capable of doing this?" Lucius snarled. "This potion takes six hours to set, and I hardly want to be up until midnight waiting for it."

"Well if I'm here, I must be feeling slightly better, mustn't I?" Hermione retorted, feeling her temper stir. "For the record, I've cast a small air purifying charm, so the smells won't bother me for a half hour at least. Where did you get this recipe anyway? I've never read an anti-nausea potion quite like this one."

Lucius tamped down his irritation at her innate curiosity as she perused the recipe. He flicked his hand and the pages flipped over. "Family fortune. Potions. Proprietary," he ground out. It was one thing to share it with Draco, his offspring; but Narcissa had never shown the slightest interest or beyond middling ability in the subject. He was testy, and it was not a good time to push him about it. He forcibly ignored the hurt expression on her face as she finished dicing the axolotl, capably enough, he noted. "That will be sufficient, thank you."

Hermione took the hint and put the knife down, sitting down on the stool he hardly ever used. "Why, Lucius?"

"Because it was necessary," he said with a note of finality, as if that were all that needed to be said on the subject.

"WHY was it 'necessary', Lucius?" Hermione asked, her temper clearly showing in her own tone of voice.

"Damn it, Hermione, let me finish this and then you may needle me. I do not need another sliced body part!" Lucius was pleased to note that that shut her up, and he finished mincing the spines again, then mixed them carefully with the axolotl before he added it to the cauldron, stirring precisely eight times counter-clockwise. Removing the silver stirring rod, he then turned to fully look at his wife.

Her cheeks had a hint of color, which was certainly an improvement over the past few weeks. "What have you had to eat today?" he grilled, prepared to insist she go have something immediately.

"I ate three digestive biscuits forty minutes ago, and three quarters of a cup of tea," she said proudly, and Lucius was surprised.

"Digestive biscuits?" he queried, his nostrils flaring when she informed him that it was a Muggle foodstuff.

"Don't you _dare_ give me that look, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, when you've been forced to brew my own potions because somehow someone contaminated whatever one you bought for me, and you didn't want to WORRY ME with the pesky details of yet another attempt to injure me! And because you haven't said anything, I had the most AWFUL moment where I actually, I actually _wondered_ briefly if you were poisoning me, because you. Wouldn't. Talk. To. Me." She had marched over and poked him in the chest with her finger, tears threatening. "And I felt horridly after that, I really did. Because after feeling so damn miserable for so long, I just…I couldn't stop thinking about how things happened, the first time…"

Lucius had been shocked into silence by her admission that she had suspected him, and it had stung, however bitterly he deserved such thoughts. He knew she was referring to the first war, when Lord Voldemort assassinated some with poisons that were subtle and slow.

"He did his own brewing back then," Lucius informed her, then turned back to check the potion because it was easier than hearing such cruelty fall from her lips. He refused to consider why her suspicion bothered him as much as it did.

"I know you better than that, Lucius. It was a moment of weakness, when my petty psyche was looking for some rational cause other than the normal course of events for most pregnancies. And I am so very, very sorry. I know you would never harm me."

Hermione had moved closer, gently touching, then clasping his upper arm. "Please, Lucius. I wanted you to know how damaging it is not to tell me what is happening. I really can't bear it. I have to know everything, or the missing pieces drive me mad."

Lucius turned around to look at her. She was sincere, he knew, but the problem was her persistent habit of thrusting herself in the middle of danger when she had a plan for defeating it. He decided the best approach was to tell her just that.

"Hermione, have you not noticed that you cannot stop at _knowing_? You always proceed to _doing_, witch, and now it is not just your own life that must be considered. I know this pregnancy is hardly welcome or enjoyable, but, and you'll pardon me for saying this, you are hardly over the moon at the prospect of a baby to cuddle and love. I wonder if it factors in your thought processes at all, as something you must protect."

Hermione flinched from his accurate assessment, and sat back down hard on the stool. Oh, it stung, and she couldn't hide it. "It's just…that it's so sudden." Her voice was quiet, and part of him rejoiced in the fact that it had hurt her, if only because it showed his petty side that she did care about him more than a little. "I never pictured becoming a mother this way, that's all. I know you will love the baby, adore it, as will I—but I always pictured…the missing piece."

Her eyes had drifted off at the last, and she didn't need to explain what she meant.

"Are you implying that I care less for you than you care for me?" Lucius could not help the stiff tone. Even the two decades he had on this witch did not immure him from the entanglements of the heart in all its twisted and tortured vagaries. He waved to the potions lab. "Exactly how else do you think I can show you? Besides, we have already discussed this. I wasn't aware that _keeping you alive_ didn't count as 'trying'."

"But I didn't even know that you were doing that!" Hermione shouted, waving her arms around the lab in a wilder manner than he had done. "You let me think you were feeding me standard stock from an apothecary's shelves, not that you were down here making them all yourself, you even let Draco and Astoria think that! Nor have you denied my supposition that you did so because yet another attempt was made on my life! I am not a pet or child to be cosseted and protected, Lucius! I fought the bloody Dark Lord, destroyed his Horcruxes! Do you really think me incapable of wielding a wand or assisting in tracking down those responsible because I'm bloody pregnant?"

Lucius grasped her arms and shoved her back against the bench, stilling the impulse at the last second so she jolted against it instead of bumping forcefully. "Don't you dare put me on a fucking pedestal of nobility. You haven't the foggiest notion of what I've done, of what I had to do, whose arses I had to kiss and what deals I had to make to regain even a hint of my former status." His voice was lashing, his face more tightly controlled than she had seen in a long time from him. "You have no idea what masters I exchanged for the last one, Hermione. Don't you _dare_ to inflict your expectations on me with everything else I'm juggling. _I beg you_."

Hermione knew the last was raw truth, if nothing else. She studied the depths of his swirling, stormy eyes for a second, then tilted her head to the side minutely. "What could they possibly hold over you, Lucius? Your every raw nerve was exposed, every dark dealing and worse supposed, imagined, and dissected. No one has power over you now, Lucius, except yourself."

The color from her temper was still flaring magnificently in her cheeks, and Lucius drank in the sight of his fiery wife. She was still pale, too wan, too depleted. But she was a glorious creature.

"Always straight to the heart and truth of a matter," Lucius said, then folded her into his arms. It was a warm feeling, holding her this way. He ignored the indurated and pragmatic side of his brain for a few minutes.

"Well? Are you going to tell me more of what's going on, or is this a secret plan to drive me insane, if the hormones don't do it for you first?"

Her attempt at humor fell flat, but Lucius wouldn't put it past her to badger Kingsley personally, and Harry as well. He could not afford for her to take a trip to the Ministry now. He drew back and met her gaze steadily. "Your office was booby trapped with a very nasty curse. I had to let the DMM handle it."

He knew that was sufficient to register the true level of danger for her. She knew enough of him to know that if he could deal with something himself, he would. He hated owing anyone anything. "The potions were a precaution. I have good reason to suspect everyone, Hermione, save Kingsley, Harry, and my family. In such times, it is best to err on the side of extreme caution."

"Why do you trust Harry?" The question spilled from her lips before she could stop it. "And Kingsley, for that matter."

"Please do not insult your own intelligence," Lucius sniffed, drawing back and letting her go. "I obviously cannot tell you the particulars."

"So Yaxley, Thicknesse, Underwood…is there anyone in our division that is not under suspicion?"

"Well I'd like to hope that Yasmin's drawling about her Pekingese is not some sort of code for nefarious activities," Lucius quipped, and Hermione chuckled.

"I suspect she is too old to retain any malicious tendencies. It's not as though she's carefully nurtured them the way your Aunt Thèrése has done."

"Tsk tsk, so uncharitable! All because of your muddy blood. Doubtless she would have found you highly amusing otherwise."

"I want to go back to work, Lucius. I can't work effectively from home." Hermione's statement was strong, but she rather ruined it moments later when her stomach made its presence loudly felt. Lucius dragged her out of the lab and conjured a bucket just in time. He watched her dispassionately as she lost the contents of her stomach again, although he did note that she did not have much in it. He made a mental note to have the elves fetch more of the Muggle foodstuffs—at least it had stayed down long enough to do some good.

"I will discuss it further with you when you are back in our bedroom," Lucius said, helping her up the stairs since she didn't prefer to use apparition. He left the bucket for a house elf to deal with. He helped her rinse her mouth in their bathroom and charmed her hair into a soft chignon at the nape of her neck, then watched her settle herself on the chaise by the fireplace instead of the bed. She indicated the chair opposite and he quirked an eyebrow in amusement, his silent reflection on her impudence in ordering him about. Nonetheless, he took the indicated chair and waited for her to begin again. He did not have to wait long.

"I need to deal with some of the inconsistencies in results that are cropping up, and I can't do that by owl post or Floo calls. Some of the team don't respond well to in absentia directions, as you are well aware." Hermione knew this was a difficult point to win, but she couldn't see how she could make any real progress on the project without being at the office, surrounded by all the data, all the tools. She knew Lucius knew it too, and that it was hurting her to not be contributing somehow.

"Hermione, please listen very carefully to what I am about to tell you. If you go into the Ministry, someone will be successful with one of these curses. There are too many unknown persons involved. The fact that they had enough time to set a complex curse on your desk with teams of Aurors and Unspeakables running around does not speak well to the efficacy of those protective measures."

"So what you're saying is that you don't think I'm capable of defending myself." Hermione's eyes flashed, and Lucius' temper got the better of him as he slammed a hand down on the low table between them, causing the lacquer to crack.

"Damn it, that is NOT what I'm saying! Don't put words in my mouth!"

"So you want me to cower and hide? For how long, Lucius? For how long will I remain caged because of this? I won't have it, I won't live my life in fear!" Hermione's face was determined.

"But you'll LIVE, damn it!" Lucius roared. "I can't bear that again, Hermione. I WON'T bear it again."

Hermione's breath whooshed out, her eyes locked with her husband's. Her heart clenched and dropped at the flash of emotions on his face, and she couldn't look away. There was a scratching on the windowsill, and Lucius broke eye contact, his cool mask firmly back in place as he retrieved and read the communication from the owl.

"I have to go to my club. I will be home late. Do not wait up. I will bring the potion up when I get home—probably before midnight."

"Lucius—" Hermione's tone was inscrutable, but her outstretched hand was not. Lucius turned her hand over and pressed a small kiss to her palm, allowed her fingers to trace his mouth. He pulled back, assuming his hauteur like a cloak. Before he left, he gave her a last piece of advice.

"They are counting on you being a Gryffindor. Please, for once in your life, behave as a Slytherin."

* * *

"Calvin," Lucius remarked calmly as he slid into the dark corner booth at the club that was still favored by purebloods and wizarding traditionalists. While never an official destination for Death Eaters, the club remained a haven of pureblood gossip, the sorts of things that would never be remarked on in public or at the Ministry. Those who were very discreet would not even discuss such things at a dinner party, preferring to keep the social, social. Naturally, Lucius was firmly among that number, a tradition that he had curved a time or two but which had served to keep him out of some nasty inter-family vendettas over the years.

"Friend." Calvin was already glamoured, and Lucius' own glamour was firmly in place. It would not do to be recognized this eve.

"What shall we eat?" Yaxley was nothing if not predictable, and a meal would serve as sufficient cover.

Lucius summoned a waiter, ordering a rather bland meal with some inoffensive but uninspired wine pairings. It was certainly not his style, but that was rather the point. He snapped the menu closed and Yaxley dismissed it for him with his wand. Lucius subtly cast _Muffliato_ and the same _Confundus _variation that Hermione had used in the Ministry café. Severus had been a very useful friend. Lucius sighed mentally. Now was not the time to be maudlin.

"Where are they?" Lucius asked calmly, and Yaxley nodded his head imperceptibly toward the opposite corner. Lucius removed his cloak—a cheaper fabric from Malkin's robe shop, but all to the better. If there was anything less likely than Lucius Malfoy wearing a readymade robe, it was probably that anyone here would suspect him of caring for his new wife. He stood to fold the robe and handed it to the cloakroom attendant, who wordlessly glided over to receive it. His head turned just to get a glimpse of their quarry. Oh yes. He would recognize that dark hair anywhere. His cousin was dining with an inoffensive little man. He fixed the face in his brain, unable to look at them for longer, and started thinking as he sat back down, unobserved by the objects of his perusal. They were overly reliant on their notice-me-not spell, it appeared. It merely meant that someone could not watch them intently, not that glances could not be stolen. It was impossible to eavesdrop here, under normal circumstances…

"Well?" Calvin was grumpy, doubtless after speaking to Alan Parkinson.

Lucius pondered the face, flipping through his mental roster of Ministry employees. "Department of Magical Transportation. An inconsequential family. Reports to Cornelia Dextrose."

"Apparently she's more than a meddlesome bitch, eh?" Yaxley's voice was bitter, and Lucius wondered exactly what the history was between the two of them.

"Anything you'd care to tell me?" he asked pointedly, and Calvin shook his head wordlessly. _Hmmm_.

"How long has he been in the country?"

"Arrived this morning, according to my Aurors. I couldn't keep him under continual surveillance without Underwood being involved, but thus far he has been moving around Knockturn Alley and nowhere else."

"That's hardly unusual for him," Lucius observed, then tucked into the cream soup. "Delicious."

"Mmm."

Neither said anything as they finished the starter, each lost in thought.

"Calvin?" Lucius asked, an idea turned over in his mind. "I don't suppose you would be interested in reviving a little party trick?"

Yaxley was many things, but slow was not one of them. "What did you have in mind?"

Lucius held out two brightly colored pastilles. "Recognize these?"

"I believe I need to visit the loo," Calvin said, pocketing the sweets as he left the table. Satisfied, Lucius sat back and waited for his dinner companion.

"Sorted."

"Very good. Now, what did Alan have to say about your suggestion regarding their marriage records?" Lucius asked, more pleased with the fish course than he had been with the soup.

"He told me to fuck off, of course. However, his blathering revealed exactly where he keeps them."

"Naturally. And I trust you relieved him of them in short order?"

"Copied them. He'll never realize they are gone."

"Excellent."

Lucius sat back to wait for their main course, and for the desserts that had just arrived at his cousin's table. "Ah, right on time."

Both men pulled papers from their pockets and exchanged them wordlessly. "They've both taken a bite."

"Ah, petit fours. So predictable, Bertrand," Lucius murmured, and both started reading as every word each man was saying began to scroll forth on the papers in front of them.

_There is not much more I can offer you. It's not as if I have any sway._

_Nonsense. I am sure that a man as keenly placed as yourself must hear certain things during the normal course of your day. All I am asking for is that you keep an ear to the ground, as they say. _

_I doubt that Dextrose would be pleased to know you are talking to me at all._

_What she does not know cannot hurt her, hmm? Come now, we both know that my cousin's new wife is hardly appropriate for our class. I am merely…making the appropriate enquiries, as any concerned family member would do._

_Are you sure you haven't had anything to do with that business in the DMR? Because I can tell you right now that I want nothing to do with any of that. I hear rumors, of course, but I'm not getting myself involved in anything like that. No promotion is worth that sort of risk._

_My dear man, if you thought I had anything to do with that, would I be dealing with—and I assure you I mean no offense—a lowly clerk such as yourself?_

_And all you want is for me to tell you if anyone from Magical Research comes sniffing around?_

_Exactly, my good man. I just need the name, that is all._

_And nothing will happen to them?_

_I don't think you need concern your conscience at all, Ambrose._

The scrolling stopped, and Calvin confirmed with a nod toward his main course that the two were departing.

Lucius took one bite of the perfectly cooked venison and declared himself done. He had too much on his mind to think of food. "Well. I believe someone is going to have to pay another visit to France."

"And it won't be you," Calvin said flatly. "I believe it is time to use your favorite Auror, Lucius."

"In-deed," Lucius said, annoyed by the petty delight Calvin took in his predicament. "I won't forget this, Calvin."

"Lucius, a man has to find his enjoyment where he can. Not all of us have been given pretty wives."


	20. Other People's Proficiencies

**I am sorry for the delay in posting this. It is shorter than I'd like but I have limited time as real life in the form of my job has hit hard with the end of quarter. I should be out of it in a week's time and then I have a marvelous thing called VACATION when I can simply write and relax and do all the other things that real life demands, too. It should mean quicker updates again, however, once I give and grade my finals.**

**I have read all of your MARVELOUS reviews-thank you, thank you, thank you! I wish I had time to respond but I don't today, and I want to give you this chapter you've waited more than a week to read. I hope it satisfies and keeps you going until next week and more intrigue unfolds!**

**And if you could, please let me know your opinion. I really love reviews, they make me want to write faster for you, even when real life is so demanding. I have felt horridly guilty for not updating this sooner-so by all means, pile on the guilt again in the form of copious reviews. Thank you so much for reading.**

* * *

"Well?"

The man's voice was impatient, edged with the hint of anger that was always a prelude to violence. The young man cowered slightly, his hands shaking as he pointed to a peak on the computer screen.

"That section there doesn't make sense. It doesn't match up with the usual profiles of epigenetic markers."

"Quit using your Muggle words, fool, and explain what it means," the man said with a hiss, striding impatiently behind him. For the millionth time, the young man ran his fingers nervously through his lank, unkempt hair. He had to make him happy, keep him happy…

"Um, it doesn't fit the rules, master. It's not matching up," he said, hoping that the blunt delivery would equally blunt the man's rage.

"_What?_" the blonde man stopped his pacing, his eyes narrowing as he met the quivering Muggle's. "Say that again."

"It doesn't match the profiles of a regulator! It's rubbish, I think they did it deliberately, but I don't know, I could be missing something—" he cut off as the other man withdrew the slim stick of wood from his pocket, aiming it at him with a certainty that caused panic to bubble manically beneath the surface of the young man's brain before he was writhing on the floor, every muscle in his body spasming, the nerves shrieking in pain. _Agony_. _Pure agony_.

"I'm just a student! I'm just a student!" he shrieked in self-defense, his body instinctively curling into the fetal position, the wetness from the release of his bladder a familiar humiliation. "I need an expert's opinions, I need help to get all of this done—I need help."

"You need more than help," the blonde snapped, pulling his brown hair and causing him to rise to his knees. "If I thought you had the gall to hold information from me…"

The cuts that sprung forth on his arms caused him to shriek again in pain and fear, and the wizard let him slump to the ground again in disgust.

"Kill me, please," he begged, when the pain faded slightly, and he saw the cruel expression on the man's face.

"I still have use for you, fool," the blonde snarled, then turned to look at the other man in the room.

The young man breathed in harsh pants as he lay on the floor, wondering if he would ever get the scent of his own blood from his nostrils again. The dark haired man never spoke, had never pointed his stick at him, although he played with it, folding it through his fingers with an alacrity that would be at home amongst the finest magicians. He simply regarded him with the same indifference one would give to roadkill, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. Finally, he spoke to the blonde man.

"I think it's time we acquired another Muggle."

* * *

"I didn't expect you would still be up," Lucius said as he noticed that Hermione was still awake, albeit it in bed. "At least I don't have to wake you for this," he said, holding up a vial of the potion, which had settled to a cucumber color after cooling.

"I wouldn't want to miss the delights of this newest torment," Hermione replied drily, setting aside the Muggle research journals that had kept the hours well filled in his absence. "Are you quite certain this will work?"

Lucius sat one hip on the bed next to her and held it out. "One way to find out. At least you can be reasonably confident I'm not trying to kill you, now that you've seen the ingredients and part of the preparation yourself."

Hermione swallowed it, the grimace on her face from the taste saying it all. "I deserved that, I know."

"Yes, you did. Or did it not occur to you that I have waited too long for a second child to go about blindly killing its mother before it has a chance to be born?" Lucius' voice was edged with sarcasm, but the hand he placed on her stomach was gentle.

"Why did you not have more children with Narcissa?" Hermione asked softly, aware that these glimpses of Lucius' heart were few and far between.

His attention remained fixed on her stomach, his hand gliding idly over the smooth silk of her pajama top. "We wanted to have more, but Narcissa lost several. After a certain point, it was not fair to ask her to keep trying, when each miscarriage cost her a bit more."

She didn't know what to say to that, but the "I'm sorry" that left her lips was really the only thing she could offer. Sometimes an acknowledgement of others' pain was really the best you could do.

"I know," he said, glancing at her briefly before he rose from the bed to get into his own pajamas. "Please tell me you ate something for dinner."

"I kept down more digestive biscuits for an hour," she offered, and Lucius shook his head.

"That's not nearly enough." He paused in removing his shirt, and looked back at her. "I'm going to have to take you to St. Mungo's if this doesn't work, Hermione."

"You can stop threatening me with the hospital. I'm quite certain that a Muggle hospital would be able to deal with it if St. Mungo's couldn't manage. I'm hardly the first woman to have debilitating nausea with pregnancy." As she spoke Hermione realized she had come to peace with the fact that her body was simply uncontrollable at this point. It was a somewhat liberating experience.

"You will _not_ go to a _Muggle_ hospital," Lucius said tightly, jerking on the pajama bottoms with more force than necessary.

"You can hardly complain about all things Muggle when it's Muggle biscuits that are keeping me somewhat sane and not chained to the bathroom floor," Hermione pointed out snarkily, and Lucius merely flipped his hair to the side before getting into bed, pulling her firmly into his arms.

"I can persist in my opinions if they give me comfort, regardless of the reality on the ground, as they say," he informed her.

"Those are the words of an_ old man_, Lucius, a relic from another age," Hermione began, and he interrupted her.

"Are you saying I'm _old_, you impudent wench?"

"Yes, I can see that you are," Hermione said, naughtily sliding her hand down the front of his pants. Needless to say, they hadn't had any enjoyment of marital congress in weeks, and Lucius was instantly at attention. He was hopeful of the success of the potion, if she was feeling naughty.

"Are you prepared to suffer the consequences if you do not retract that statement?" Lucius demanded, leaning over her in what he meant to be an intimidating fashion.

"Oh I rather hope so," Hermione said, threading her fingers in his hair.

How she loved suffering for Lucius in such a way.

* * *

"Tell me about your dinner. Whom did you have it with, and whom were you spying on?"

Lucius raised an eyebrow at her. "Stealing a page from my playbook, are we?"

"Well, you are remarkably relaxed at present, husband," Hermione said pertly, "And I have just enjoyed an hour of your expert lovemaking without my stomach twitching. I think I'm entitled to a treat."

She was looking very fetching with her hair loose around her shoulders and her head perched on her hands, simply looking at him from his chest. "You are a pest," he huffed, and she replied quickly, "You knew that when you married me."

"Very well. I had dinner with Yaxley, and we were watching Bertrand play the unctuous bribe-maker to a clerk in the Department of Magical Transportation."

"Our neighbors at the Ministry. How interesting." Hermione's eyebrow was quirked upward, and Lucius smoothed it back into its normal place.

"Yes, rather. And Calvin has been withholding some information regarding his dealings with another member of that department."

"Hmmm. Didn't you say that the break-in was accomplished through that department?"

"Minx. I didn't, but you are correct. The villains enlarged a rat hole that was a historical artifact of the building and made good use of it."

"And by villains, you mean Brandefort and someone else."

Lucius hemmed and threw her a bone. "Well, Brandefort was merely the pigeon. What remains unclear is how many others were involved—at least one who got away, and possibly another insider who assisted in the ensuing chaos."

"And you think your cousin was involved in this somehow." Her statement was certain, and Lucius let it pass.

"The point is, now we need more information from France, and possibly Norway. I have asked Potter to come over tomorrow morning before work to discuss it." Lucius picked up one of her hands and began to nibble on her fingertips.

"And I will participate in that discussion." Her tone was firm and no nonsense.

Lucius smiled beneath her hand, and kissed her palm. "What is it worth to you?" he asked slyly, and Hermione realized she had been played.

"Lucius, I insist on being part of this! If you have that meeting without me, I will go to work by myself," she said hotly.

"And be sent back home by a team of Unspeakables before you get through the door—and promptly be packed off to Mungo's, by me," he said equally firmly. "Now, kitten, if you want to come back to work, your boss must agree you are up to the requirements of your job. Given your recent distress, I don't think that will be possible until you are quite recovered, a few more weeks, say. And, in exchange for your agreement on _discretion_, you will participate in the meeting tomorrow with Harry."

"That's one meeting in exchange for an unnamed number of _weeks_ cooped up here, Lucius. That is hardly equitable or fair." Hermione was in full negotiating mode, but it did not negate Lucius' attention to her flagging energy and the way the color was seeping from her face. He gently turned her onto the bed and ran his hand across her cheek and down her shoulder.

"Pet, you are still quite ill. It will take more than a few days for the benefits of proper nutrition and rest to catch up to you. While I am delighted to see your digestibles are palatable…"

"Digestives, Lucius," Hermione interrupted.

"Yes, whatever they are, but the fact remains that despite the lovely results of the past hour, you are still severely hampered in physical and magical energy, and you cannot even convince yourself that you are feeling ready enough to defend against all comers."

"I beg to differ," Hermione argued, and Lucius smiled.

"Oh? Well, by all means, show me your shield charm, if you please." He wordlessly summoned her wand from the bedside table, and offered it to her, an innocent expression on his face.

"That is a low blow," Hermione muttered, taking her wand simply because it was there and wishing she had enough reserves to send a small stinging charm his way.

"I have been down this road before, sweetling, and I am well aware of what you are and are not capable of. When you are _capable_ of defending yourself and our child, I will gladly accept your presence back in the office. Until then, accept the offered olive branch with the good grace for which you are renowned."

Hermione scrunched up her nose and scowled at her husband. "You mean like I accepted you as my husband? Fine. I expect you to wake me in enough time that I won't miss any of your chatting with Harry."

"Ouch! That stings, my pet," Lucius said with mock outrage, then pulled her firmly into the crook of his arms.

"You know I hate it when you call me that," Hermione said, her attempt at grumping failing rather spectacularly as a loud yawn escaped her mouth.

"You are such a poor liar," Lucius said as he kissed her good night.

* * *

"How are you doing Hermione?" Harry asked as soon as he stepped out of the Floo, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "You're way too thin."

Hermione threw a dirty glance at her husband, who stood impassively and returned her glare with the universal 'I told you so' look that is shared by all spouses, Wizard and Muggle alike. "Thank you Harry, but I am feeling better now. Lucius brewed a custom anti-nausea potion for me."

"He did, eh?" Harry threw a look at Lucius Malfoy and stepped back from his friend. "Potion number 3 seems to still be Ginny's best bet, although she still has her moments. I suppose you've heard about Lavender, then?" Harry took a seat on the couch that Hermione indicated while she sat down on the chair opposite. Lucius took the opportunity to ask Twigs for some coffee and tea, then seated himself in the chair next to Hermione's.

"No! Oh Harry, don't tell me—"

"Yep, she's pregnant too. They're very pleased, I'm surprised they haven't owled you?"

"Oh," Hermione flushed. "There were some owl posts that were, um, well, unreadable, unfortunately. I couldn't make out who sent them."

"Ah." Harry wisely shut up and Lucius took his cue to interject himself into the conversation.

"As much as I hate to break up this charming tête-à-tête, perhaps we should discuss why you are here, Potter. It seems some further investigating is required in France, and Norway."

"Oh?"

Lucius filled Harry in on Bertrand's presence in England, and the conversation he had had with Ambrose Mullan of the Department of Magical Transportation.

"I suspect that Bertrand will be returning to France shortly, if he does not decide to poke his head in here first—and then he will need to be followed, Harry. You know what Thicknesse and Kingsley suspect about Norway. I doubt Fabian will be aware of your little jaunt, but you'll have to ask Kingsley if you should bring your partner or not. I'm sure that Calvin can cover adequately if Kingsley orders him to do so."

Harry nodded and looked back to Hermione. "I expect you to keep to yourself, Hermione. After that business with Zosimus' Apothecary, I'd say your best bet is to pretend Death Eaters are on every corner. Apologies, Lucius," Harry said with a small nod, which Lucius returned stiffly.

"Not at all."

Hermione could perceive that he was at a minimum offended by the comment, but was keeping himself in check with the religious control that he exercised around those with whom he felt less than perfectly comfortable. She had often perceived Severus Snape holding himself in just such a way at Order meetings. Now she was uncomfortably aware of what it meant. She set that aside to think about later, however, and asked, "What happened at Zosimus' Apothecary?"

Lucius' eyes flashed at Harry and he realized his mistake too late. "Oh, um, well, I assumed Lucius had told you about that. The shop clerk was under the Imperius. He was selling adulterated potions. Caused a few miscarriages before he was caught, unfortunately."

"I see," Hermione said, some color fading from her face. She felt incredibly sad for those women…and it was all because of her. "I'm glad you caught him, Harry."

"Yeah. Well, we don't buy any of our stuff there anyway—too expensive." Harry cleared his throat after Lucius darted another angry glare at him, and decided it was time to leave. "I'll just get the trip sorted, and let you know. I imagine I'll be right behind your cousin when he leaves," he said to Lucius, then gave Hermione another hug. "Take good care of yourself, Hermione. Ginny would never forgive you if you rushed into something at this stage."

"I know," Hermione said, recognizing that he really meant himself and Ron. "I have quite a loud conscience sitting on my shoulder."

Her eyes met those of her husband and she allowed him to take her arm and fold it in his own as Harry left, the picture of a united front. If only it felt like that all the time!


	21. Heigh Ho, Heigh Ho

**Good evening readers. My quarter has ended, HUZZAH and Fare Thee Well! I have taken a few days of rest as recompense for the mad scramble that always accompanies final exams and grading and last minute queries from students, and now I am back and my story is humming along. Another chapter of information, but it's quite necessary, and I expect there to be some action in the next chapter and some quite major plot points within the next four or so. **

**I hope to be updating twice a week now, and I do thank you for the very thoughtful reviews to my last chapter. AlesiaG your eagle eye is appreciated! I have the villains pretty well in hand (as much as they ever can be, really) and all I can say is, my goodness me, it's a rough ride ahead for our protagonists. Oh my. zeeksmom I think your comments are great-let us hope you are right. ;) Hope you enjoy, and please give some reviews and feedback. I promise to be more individual next time with my review responses-rest assured, you are ALL loved for giving me reviews, I do mean that sincerely. I am merely tired at this time of night and wish to post without further delay. Thank you for reading! As usual, all credit for the HP world goes to JKR.**

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The prospect of having a friend over for tea was such a _treat_ that it was ridiculous. Harry had left for Germany a week ago, and after a harried Floo call to Ginny, Hermione had resolved to leave her friend alone given that it was _her_ fault that Harry was gone. Fortunately, Lavender and Ron had not noticed her less than rapid congratulations on Lavender's pregnancy, and after Lavender had cheerfully informed her that werewolves apparently had no nausea when they were pregnant, Hermione wrangled a promise that she would come to tea today.

"Smidge, please make sure that we have plenty of almond cakes," Hermione said to her house elf, and resisted the urge yet again to offer her clothes. The elf was very sweet and accommodating, but she had been born at Malfoy Manor and Hermione supposed she should be content that Smidge no longer expected punishment when she did something wrong.

"Yes Mistress!" The house elf winked away, and Hermione wondered idly how Lucius' day was unfolding. It had been almost two weeks since she had started taking the custom potion, and she was actually gaining weight again. Hermione was distracted from her thoughts by the knock on the door, and then Twigs was escorting Lavender into the morning parlor.

"Hermione! Oh, it's wonderful to see you!"

Lavender embraced her with an effusive hug, then popped back and sat down on the closest chair. "Well, you are looking better. It's almost time for another haircut, don't you dare let anyone else touch those curls!"

"I solemnly swear to let you cut my hair again before I go back to work next week," Hermione said with a smile. Lavender was her usual effervescent self, although was she actually glowing? "I am bitterly jealous of your ability to look and feel so well when you're pregnant."

"Ha! Well, at least that's one thing I can be thankful about—apparently it's a side effect from being turned. Honestly I did not expect to be so content with it all, but now that we are actually looking at baby names and baby things, I just can't wait!"

Hermione felt a pang as she saw the excitement in her friend's countenance, and felt slightly guilty that she hadn't even discussed names with Lucius. Lavender, however, did not notice her discomfort and continued chatting on.

"Ron is adamant that Herbert will be the name if it's a boy, but I can't stand that name. Apparently it was the name of a great-uncle or something who was killed as a teenager, and his great-aunt Hopkia has always sworn he looks like him…"

"Family names are a bit troublesome aren't they?" Hermione murmured, aware that no response was required.

"Well, you would know! I suppose you're just hoping that Lucius doesn't want to revive Abraxas, hmmm? So what names are you considering?"

"Um, we've decided to keep it a surprise until the baby is born," Hermione said weakly. "Tea and cake?"

"Oh yes, please! Are those almond cakes? Oh you are sweet Hermione, you remembered those were my favorite at Hogwarts…now let me tell you about Luna and Neville's courtship…"

Hermione found it quite easy to lose herself in Lavender's stream of gossip and news, and oddly found it highly relaxing. Here at least was one friend who was completely divorced from the ugliness that her life had become, and all the intrigue swirling around the Ministry and her tests and research. It was nice to be able to dismiss it all from her mind for a while.

"Well, that was quite enough of that, I said. Now, tell me if you have gone to look at baby things yet, Hermione?"

"Em, with me being so sick, we really haven't had time." Hermione again felt a pang of guilt, but Lavender seemed to consider the problem and continued, "Well I'm sure there are things kept from when Draco was a baby—have you looked at those yet?"

"Oh!" Hermione blinked. Honestly, she hadn't even thought about any of that, but obviously Lavender was baby fixated already. She felt uncomfortable at the direction of the conversation, but Lavender was like the ocean tide, there was no stopping her.

"Well, let's look now! What is your house elf's name again? Smidge?" Lavender was waiting expectantly, and Hermione felt the time had come to be honest.

"Truthfully, Lavender, I haven't had time to be very excited about the baby. Between being sick and the problems at work, I haven't even thought about the birth or being a mom."

Lavender blinked a few times, then gave Hermione a small smile. "That's okay, I understand. But don't you think it's fun to think about? I just remember how cuddly Albus was as a newborn, and I just can't wait to hold my own baby."

Lavender's voice had a dreamy quality to it, and Hermione felt a slight quiver of warmth at the thought of having her own baby. However, she also remembered how colicky Albus had been as a newborn, and how Ginny had been pulling her hair out. Given her terrible nausea, Hermione could not be so optimistic as to picture a blissfully contented newborn.

"I do like the way they smell," Hermione said, "and how sweet they look when they are sleeping."

"Oh yes, they are just the most adorable creatures. And all the lovely things you can buy for them! Of course Ron says we can get some hand-me-downs from his mum, but really I think we will have to buy some new things even if most of them come from Practic Alley. Of course, you could buy everything from Whimsic Alley, Hermione—but I suppose a lot of what the Malfoys already have is top quality. Shall we go have a look?"

Lavender's face was so hopeful that Hermione could not help but agree, even though it was the last thing she wanted to be doing. Her mind was now turning over the likely challenges of being a mother—her worries had merely shifted subject.

"Smidge!" Hermione called, and within ten minutes they were in the Malfoy nursery. Lavender canvassed the room with an expert eye, then turned to Hermione.

"Well I suppose you can change it to whatever colour and theme you like, but I'm surprised it's so gender neutral."

Personally Hermione found the cream, green, and soft browns soothing, but she wasn't willing to speculate as to why the room was so neutral. It hinted of unfulfilled expectations, and although the room was clean it had an air of benign neglect that informed Hermione that it had never been used for Scorpius.

"I think it's nice, but I'm sure we will pick something else when we know whether we are having a boy or a girl," Hermione said, gently fingering a soft blanket that was laid over the side of a cot made of pale beech.

"Are you going to find out? I didn't think the Ministry allowed that," Lavender said with surprise, and Hermione's brow wrinkled.

"Why not?" Ultrasounds were so commonplace for Muggles, Hermione assumed the Wizarding world had an equivalent spell, although she had never bothered to research such a thing before.

"Because pureblood families used to screen for a male heir, and they would abort girls until they got the firstborn they wanted." Lavender frowned. "That spell was banned in the 1700s, I think. What on earth made you think of it?"

Hermione's brown eyes crinkled slightly as she looked at her friend. "Ah, Muggles have a test they can do to find out. And they have the same problem with abortions—in fact it's a big problem in places like China, and they now have a huge gender imbalance because of it."

"Oh." Lavender's forehead crinkled as she said, "What a depressing topic! Let's talk about what you would do differently in here…"

Hermione allowed that she would probably change the drapes and add more candle sconces, and she thought the bookcase was too small, and the toys needed to be refreshed. The air of sadness that pervaded the space made her want to cast a cleansing charm, but she doubted it would help. The room needed Lucius, somehow, and she sighed as she considered that eventually she and her husband would have to do something together with this room.

"Oh, look at the time! Ron was supposed to meet me at the gates—I have to go, Hermione."

"Why doesn't he come in?" Hermione asked, but realized the answer before Lavender could give it. The Weasleys only came onto Malfoy grounds by official invitation or on Ministry business. The fact that Ginny herself had moved on from Lucius' involvement with the diary did not mean the family as a whole wouldn't continue their prescribed code of conduct when dealing with the Malfoys. "Right, let me show you out then Lavender. And thank you for coming!"

Hermione pressed a hug on her friend and apparated them to the gate, a much faster means of travel. Sure enough, there was Ron, leaning against the stone pillar without an apparent care in the world. His eyes lit up with tenderness when he saw Lavender, then he gave Hermione a cheerful grin.

"Oy, took you long enough to remember, didn't it?"

Hermione stepped through the gate as Ron kissed his wife and drew her close.

"Sorry honey bunches, we were having too much fun looking at the baby things in the nursery and lost track of time. How was your day in work?" Lavender's voice was bubbly and Hermione tried not be envious of their easy affection, something that was entirely different to the relationship she had with Lucius. She wasn't jealous, per se, but nothing between her and Lucius could ever be called easy.

"The usual intrigue and mortal peril," Ron joked, his hand resting comfortably at Lavender's waist. "But I don't want you wandering around, hon. These aren't safe times for anyone." His eyes darted to Hermione and slid away again quickly, and Hermione knew he felt guilty about something.

"What aren't you saying, Ron?"

Ron's blue eyes suddenly looked tired. "I'm sure it's nothing, Hermione. My boss isn't feeling particularly charitable toward Malfoy at the moment, that's all."

He didn't need to clarify that he meant Lucius. "What has he done?"

Ron released Lavender's hand and patted her upper arms. "Nothing I'm sure. It's just Carstairs overheard a man talking in Knockturn Alley, and he was discussing some very shady things. It was during a downpour so he had a hood on, but Carstairs swears it was Lucius." Ron snorted. "Like anyone could tell definitely if it was pouring as hard as he said it was."

Hermione knew he was trying to cheer her up, but anyone with any sense knew a competent Auror would have used a listening spell, which would have aided in eavesdropping, even if it was not strong enough to entirely overcome a true downpour. "What were they discussing?"

Ron shook his head. "It doesn't do any good to talk about it, Hermione. Same old rubbish we've all heard before: pureblood superiority, working around the Ministry marriages, blah blah. Really, nothing exciting. I think Underwood just jumped on it because he feels cut out from the loop, the way Yaxley and Lucius have been carrying on."

Hermione felt a twinge of apprehension over Lucius and Calvin Yaxley palling around. It wasn't like she hadn't known the way the ex-Death Eaters tended to stick together, but everything was so topsy turvy that she felt she couldn't trust her own instincts entirely anymore. "Anything else I should know?"

"We haven't heard from Harry, and no news is good news. There is nothing else to tell you," Ron said firmly, his 'I mean business' face firmly in place.

"Sure you won't stay to dinner?" Hermione offered offhandedly, knowing full well they would decline since Lucius would be home.

"No thanks. I've got some steaks on at home," Lavender chirped, folding her arm through Ron's. "Thanks for the tea and chat Hermione! And do let me know about the haircut!"

"Will do," Hermione said, giving Lavender and Ron each a kiss on the cheek.

"Mind yourself, Hermione," Ron said, then looked at his wife before he disapparated them both.

"I will," Hermione promised to the empty air. Her head was full of thoughts chasing each other's tails as she walked back into the Manor.

* * *

"You don't have to go back today," Lucius said, but Hermione's sharp look was the only reply he received.

"I have taken as many reasonable precautions as possible, but I would be _far_ happier if you would continue to work from home," he tried again, dallying with his cravat in a lazy fashion that stalled for time.

"As long as you have made the modifications to the office, I don't see any reason why I should not," Hermione said, then gestured to his cravat. "Or you could continue fussing with that and I could make it your noose?"

He rolled his eyes and offered his arm. "Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit."

"I'm so pleased to hear you compliment my wit, dear," Hermione replied sweetly, her shrunken briefcase where it belonged in her trouser pocket. She was barely showing, but had chosen wide-legged trousers to still camouflage her pregnancy. She did not need further stares in the office if a simple wardrobe choice would avoid it for the time being. "Shall we?"

Lucius grumbled under his breath, and Hermione thought she heard 'uppity' before he disapparated them both to the Ministry.

"Good morning," Hermione said cheerfully to every witch or wizard who stared at her or gave her dark looks. Lucius looked equally grim beside her, his eyes flashing at those with the impudence to give his wife a dark look in front of him. He wordlessly propelled them both to the lifts, ignoring her unspoken request that he release her hand from his arm. He was practically vibrating with hostility and Hermione let it drop. She was here, after all—she could afford to be magnanimous.

"Oh, dearie, welcome back!" Yasmin got up from her chair, her well cushioned bottom sashaying in her trademark fashion as she kissed Hermione on both cheeks and stood back to look her over carefully. "Well, well, _I_ can tell that you've happy news, dear, but those trousers are just the thing if you want to keep it quiet, hmm?" Yasmin touched the side of her nose and winked in an obvious fashion, and inwardly Hermione sighed. The news would spread all over the Ministry in a flash, of that there was little doubt.

"Yes, we are quite pleased," Lucius said smoothly, a smile firmly in place and a pleasant expression on his face as he accepted Yasmin's effusive congratulations. Hermione was well aware that he had crafted rumors of her poisoning and let them circulate to combat the gossip about her supposed pregnancy, but if he had honestly expected those rumors to last the day he was out of his mind. She snorted to herself and quickly assumed a serene expression when Yasmin looked back at her with a questioning look on her face.

"You must tell me all about what has been going on here, Yasmin, especially since Lucius and I are now sharing an office," Hermione said, which provided a sufficient distraction for the gossipy secretary.

"Oh dearie, you must be _dying_ to know what has been going on," Yasmin gushed in a maternal way. "Here, have a seat and a cup of tea, and I will tell you about everything that has been going on, for I'm sure that Lucius hasn't told you everything," Yasmin said with a wink at her boss as she steered Hermione to the more comfortable of the two chairs in the waiting room that served as Yasmin's office.

"Besides, I'm sure he needs to deal with those interdepartmental memos that have been waiting for him, and you don't want to be there for that," she assured Hermione as Lucius swept into what was now their shared office, where a cluster of memos waited overhead. Yasmin whispered, "He incinerates some, you see, and you don't want the ash in your hair."

Yasmin patted Hermione's hand and turned to summon two cups of tea, missing Hermione's wryly amused look.

"Now, you haven't heard _this_ from Lucius, I'll warrant—Amelia Marchbanks is pregnant! And unmarried! It seems she avoided her match well enough before things could be consummated! And now they have to wait until the baby is born to find out if she still has to marry him. It's Throgmorton, you know, and that family has never been very magically strong—I'd say she was terrified of having a weak child, but no one is saying who the father is…"

Hermione half-listened to the office gossip, far more interested in what was going on behind Yasmin. The office had a glass wall, but it was enchanted to be one-way glass—the better for Lucius to catch employees who were slacking off. It didn't look like that from the outside, appearing as the plain white Ministry tile, but if Lucius allowed it whoever was inside the office was aware of the wall's true nature. She sipped her tea and murmured appropriate responses to Yasmin, taking in the subdued rush of work as more and more people filtered into the office. Some of them were Aurors or Unspeakables, she knew, but having been out of the office for so many weeks she wasn't perfectly certain who they were.

"And of course the sad business of Brandefort…apparently his gambling debts were horrendous, and they're saying that he tried to break into the DMM because of that! Poor dear's mother is beside herself—she was in my herbology club for a decade after her husband died, poor dear, before she moved to France. Now she's back to clean up after her dead son, the same way she had to clean up after his father! Sad state of affairs, that—" Yasmin broke off as there was a knock on the door, and the wall shimmered back to solid as Jessamine poked her head and began to ask Yasmin something, then broke off as she saw Hermione.

"Hermione! Oh, how wonderful that you are back!" She came into the office and gave her a hug and an air kiss on each cheek, then grabbed both of her hands and squeezed them. "You look so much better! But of course all those nasty rumors were just that, rumors, as if Monsieur Malfoy would want to get rid of such a useful wife as you!"

Hermione arched an eyebrow at the choice of "useful" as an adjective, but Jessamine just prattled on as Yasmin cleared away the teacups with her wand and resumed her place at her desk. Apparently Hermione was not going to get any help from that quarter…Yasmin was probably listening to every word in the hope of more juicy gossip.

"Yes, I am feeling much better. It was a side effect from the pregnancy, you see," Hermione replied calmly, and refrained from rolling her eyes when Jessamine squealed and tried to grab her hands again, but Hermione swiftly moved them behind her back.

"Oh, that is wonderful news! You must be pleased to be so _fertile_ when so many purebloods have trouble conceiving, I'm sure your husband's family is _thrilled_," Jessamine said. "I am so very pleased for you, I'm sure you will find some charming maternity wear that will enhance your unique features."

"Yes, I'm sure. Tell me, Jessamine, how have you been doing on the Arithmancy for the regulator?" Hermione was keen to put the conversation back on a work footing, but Jessamine blithely ignored her and continued,

"I hope we will be equally lucky when Terrell and I are married. It's only a month now, you know, and mama is beside herself as the caterers are insisting they won't be able to get enough crystalline wax for the honeycomb cake…"

Hermione cut off Jessamine's wedding talk with a simple question. "What does your fiancé think of everything that has been going on here? Surely he wants you to come home?"

Jessamine didn't blush as she normally did when her fiancé was mentioned, merely blinked once. "Well, of course he is worried, but he knows _I_ am not the target. Who would look at me?"

Hermione resisted the impulse to gawk at her blonde, buxom co-worker, but the girl glibly continued, "Besides, other than the unpleasantness of the break-in, he won't be terribly concerned with you being back. After all, it is all about you, isn't it? And if you don't have to worry about your husband, you hardly have anything to worry about at all. He's a competent wizard."

Hermione's temper flared at the insinuation that she couldn't handle herself, but Jessamine blathered on. "It's not as if you're going to be able to do much now with your current condition, and of course you'll be staying home after the baby comes."

She bit her tongue to stop from giving the ignorant girl a piece of her mind, and was thankful when Lucius emerged from their office, causing Jessamine to finally stop her prattling and Yasmin to pretend that she was busy with paperwork and not shamelessly eavesdropping on them.

"Ah, Jessamine. I reviewed the equations you submitted yesterday. I've sent the revisions to your desk. I'd like them done before the end of the day, please."

Jessamine rose elegantly from the chair (the uncomfortable one, at least, Hermione noted with ill feeling) and said, "Of course, Monsieur Malfoy! I will get back to work right away. And congratulations on your happy news!"

Lucius nodded his head in brief acknowledgement as Jessamine left the office, then gestured to the office with his right hand. "Care to see your new desk, Mrs. Malfoy?"

"Of course," Hermione said, taking a deep breath to cleanse herself of Jessamine's irritating babble.

The office had been enlarged, and a glass partition divided her work space from Lucius'. She knew he could use a silencing charm if necessary, but they had agreed to Lucius scheduling meetings during the times she was most likely to be in the lab, but the details and timing of that would remain inconsistent and the meeting attendees would only know of the timing at the last possible moment. The only exceptions were Kingsley, Harry, and Ron, who could come in at any time. All other visitors would be stopped by Yasmin and a very clever variation of the "Notice Me Not" charm that had been placed on their office door. The only way someone could now enter the office was if they were invited inside.

"Well, I suppose this will do," Hermione said, but Lucius had already sat back down at his desk, frowning at a memo, while a few remained floating over his head.

"This is not good," Lucius muttered, then raised his head to fix Hermione with a hawk-like expression. "When was that Muggle conference you were thinking about attending?"

"In a month, why?" Hermione frowned at the expression on Lucius' face as he scowled and turned his attention back to the memo before he incinerated it, the ash floating lazily in the air.

"Because we have another little problem. Apparently your opponents have decided that if a Muggle scientist won't do, a few graduate students will work just as well. One has just been reported missing in New York."

"And why are you certain it's related?" Hermione asked, already sure she knew the answer.

"Because he worked for Frederica Hayes."

"Damn." Hermione sat down on her chair, then looked at her husband. "I take it this means you aren't as opposed to my going to that conference now."

"I have to speak to Kingsley," Lucius said, "But I doubt we can avoid it. _How_ we will manage it under controllable circumstances, I don't know."

"We'll find a way," Hermione said in a determined voice. "We have to follow the rabbit hole wherever it leads, Lucius."

"I don't have to follow it to know where it leads—straight to hell," Lucius retorted, but inwardly he cursed because he knew she was equally right.


	22. Hazards of the Job

**Squeaking under the wire for less than a week! I have only just realized that I am actually *reading* several stories by some of you who are following and who have reviewed in the past! I promise to be better about leaving reviews for your work myself! Summer routine is almost established, my house is returning to a semblance of order, kiddos are settling in, so yes, updates more frequently. I will probably be posting some mornings as well, as if I can get some writing done in the mornings it is much better for me. **

**KEZZ: Thank you for your constancy!**

**articcat: Yes, it is nice to have Hermione feeling better now. Is she back to 'fighting form'? We'll see!**

**Arial Wolf: Trust and unity will continue to be a problem for this pair for a while yet.**

**zeeks mom: There is a reason for Lavender's visit. I hope you did get the vibe that it was a nice break for Hermione, a mental break from everything. I think that is important for her, but equally, she still feels unprepared for being a mom. I think the 'playing' part of your review is a hint about how Hermione thinks she *should* be feeling, versus how she is *actually* feeling about it. Also, there is some groundwork there for other things to come. **

**Alesia G: You are making be careful with my details about the plot because you keep re-reading! Thanks for that, I need someone to keep me on the straight and narrow. Curious to see what you think here, hehe.**

**sherriithewriter I hope you are still with us! There are more twists coming, I am having fun and I don't want it to be too predictable!**

**viola, I will bear that in mind about the digestive biscuits, what a great idea, hee hee!**

**Bella, eclipse00, gottaloveva, I'm so glad you are enjoying this! I hope it continues to entertain!**

**dragoon-gal, thank you! Trust me, there is darkness, still lurking here but it's starting to be teased into the open. I hope it won't be predictable, though, as I said.**

**zxxyxxz, keep reading! Hope you enjoy!**

**Mystique Fairy, not to worry, I will keep on going with this. :)**

**Ok, here it is. Please read & hit the review button to let me know what you think! Thank you for reading, and a big WELCOME to all the new story followers! And for those who hit the "favorite" button, awwwwwwwww. I am grateful for the vote of confidence, and glad you like it. And a big thank you to JKR for the marvelous universe in which I dally here, for no pay (to be clear). Thank you!**

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Harry fiddled with some robes behind a store mannequin, trying to look like he was examining a detail of the workmanship. Unlike most Dark wizards, the one he'd been following seemed to prefer meeting in highly public places, couching his directions as almost thoughtless suggestions. If he didn't know better, he'd think the wizard was a politician. He hadn't recognized him, but at this point he was pretty sure the man was polyjuiced. A glamour maintained for so long would have been draining, and polyjuice was easier to dose.

Harry looked around surreptitiously and spotted a young witch as she sidled over to the wizard and conversed with him briefly. Unlike the last few times, however, this time the man was ordering her to come with him. A barely imperceptible nod had the pair of them moving toward the exit of the store, and Harry moved swiftly to follow them. They wended their way to the public apparition point, and Harry quickly cast the tracking spell with the ease of years of practice. It was one of the subtler spells that Ministry Aurors were taught, and because it was so slight it was rarely noticed. Making his own way quickly to the apparition point, he pulled the signature of the charm and disapparated after them.

He was not disappointed when he found himself in a secluded industrial district. It was Muggle and abandoned or neglected buildings abounded, as well as many unsavory characters that shifted around aimlessly in the waning light of day. Checking to be sure his 'notice me not' spell was still firmly in place, Harry set off after the magical trace.

"I'm telling you it is time to strike! Even with the protections at the Ministry it could still be done."

Harry crouched behind a broken pane of glass, the Extendable Ear firmly in place. The beauty of Fred and George's invention is that it worked despite Muffliato and other concealment spells, and few bothered to look for physical traces of eavesdropping. It was a bad habit of the magical world to ignore physical means of detection, and therefore they sometimes forgot to guard against them.

"And _I'm_ telling _you_ that he would not be so foolish as to leave his wife so apparently unprotected. There are doubtless layer upon layer of defenses in place, and we will not move against them until it is the proper time."

"And what of the research?" The woman's glamour shifted, the visible refraction of light a warning that it was fading. Harry reasoned that she was either only a middling witch, or she was magically exhausted for some reason. He looked as carefully as he could at her true appearance. She was middle aged with dark hair and sharp features, but he didn't recognize her. He had high hopes that someone at the Ministry would recognize her.

"I would have thought you would already be informed about that," the wizard said snarkily.

"I meant the arithmancy research," she hissed, clearly irritated with the other man. The wizard must have picked up on it, too, because he drew his wand and tapped it meaningfully against his hand. The woman's eyes were drawn to it, but she didn't back down, her own wand clenched in her hand.

"I wonder, Cornelia, if you know what you are about," the wizard said softly, and there would doubtless have been some type of nastiness if a new wizard had not popped into place with a muffled whoosh.

"What the hell are you doing?" snarled Antonin Dolohov to the woman, who bowed her head submissively.

"We were discussing the research," the blonde said, carefully studying the woman. "Apparently Cornelia is impatient to move ahead with the Ministry."

Dolohov turned his black gaze in a steady sweep around the room, then looked at Cornelia with a harsh expression on his face. "We'll discuss this later," he said coldly, then aimed his wand squarely at the Extendable Ear and incinerated it. "We're being watched."

_Shit_, Harry thought, scrambling back from the window. His invisibility cloak would provide some cover, but that was not infallible and now they would be looking for various types of concealment. He had to get moving, and fast.

The three inside were moving stealthily toward the various exits, their wands drawn and versions of _Revelio_ flicking out with power, seeking even disruptions in air currents or displaced dust. Harry was moving steadily out of the alleyway between buildings that had played host to him, a quick try of disapparation showing that one of them, at least, was proficient at anti-apparition wards. He used his wand steadily, searching for the edge of the wards. Damn. One of them was powerful enough to have covered the block.

"Come out, come out, little Auror," Dolohov sneered, passing within twenty yards of Harry, who had been moving toward the street. Harry paused to consider his options. The other buildings were dangerous, but he remembered what Hermione had said about the Protean charm. They could have others waiting in the streets. Mind made up, Harry silently unlocked a beat up door and entered the next warehouse, intent on working his way diagonally toward the edge of the wards. It was a longer path but probably the safest option.

He could see the woman, but the location of the third was unknown. Harry focused on his training as well as his experience with the Order. Tonks in particular was quite good at hiding, and Harry used every bit of her teaching when the blonde wizard briefly came into view. He had already stilled, but even with the invisibility cloak he dampened his heat signature, causing him to feel very cold, but better that than dead.

"Set the others to sweep as well. Whoever it is has not taken the straight path," the blonde barked, and Harry knew he had to hurry.

He was close to the edge of the anti-apparation ward, with only a wall in the way, when his luck ran out. He identified a series of high windows and a pair of doors as possible exits, but the heat dampening was nearly sending him into hypothermia and he'd have to cancel it soon.

"There he is!"

A curse landed too close for comfort and Harry cancelled the charm and sent a curse right toward the witch, Cornelia. He revised his earlier opinion and decided that she was powerful but weakened, because the curses being thrown at him were not the work of an amateur.

"Over here!" she shouted between flashes of her wand, and Harry knew it was getting far too dangerous for him.

"Diffindo!" Harry couldn't take the time to see the slicing hex hit the woman, instead turning to the wall behind him and casting a nonverbal _Defodio _twice. He wheeled back to see Dolohov had taken the witch's place, and removed the rest of the cape, its movement hindering him more than helping at this point.

"Harry Potter. I should have known," Dolohov snarled, firing a strong _Incendio_ followed quickly by the entrail expelling curse.

Harry shouted, "Aguamenti!" and threw _Locomotor mortis_ before blocking the entrail curse, then threw the tickling curse and hit gold with the _Orchideous_ curse, as Dolohov's wand spouted trails of orchids and lilies from the tip. It gave Harry just the second he needed to whirl and aim at the weakened wall.

"Reducto!" Harry put a lot of force behind this curse, and reinforced himself with a _Salvio Hexia_. It was weaker than _Protego_ but he needed out NOW. The blast caused him to stagger, and Dolohov was almost blown off his feet, a large chunk of brick hitting his head with enough force to cause blood to stream from his temple.

"Until next we meet," Harry tossed back, ignoring the stitch in his own side as he stepped through the wall and free of the disapparation wards, turning into himself with a loud crack he didn't bother to muffle.

* * *

"Harry James Potter! Don't you DARE scare me like that again!" Ginny was exhausted, almost sick with relief, and mad as hell when her husband turned up at their doorstep, his side covered in blood.

"Sorry honey. I promise to dodge better next time," Harry joked as Ginny flashed her wand quickly and peeled back the ruins of his shirt and robes from the wound.

"What caused it?" she asked, her eyes intent on the large gash and its jagged edges, wordlessly waving her wand to summon their healing kit.

"Um, I think it must have been the brick pieces from the wall…I don't think it's one of Dolohov's curses."

She deployed her wand expertly to make sure there were no traces of magic in the wound as the blood dripped steadily onto their hallway carpet. Ginny looked up quickly to meet her husband's green eyes, then back to where her fingers were gently probing the wound.

"You were wrong. Just _had_ to be an Auror…" she muttered to herself. It was a familiar refrain whenever he got hurt at work.

"Daddy!" James came tearing down the stairs and halted rapidly when he saw the blood. "Is Dad okay?"

Harry looked up at his son and gave him a smile that turned into a grimace as Ginny gave the injury a particularly vicious swipe with a magical astringent that neutralized the dark magic in the wound with a subtle flick from Ginny's wand. "Yeah, I'm okay, buddy. Just a work injury. Mom's going to patch me up and I'll be as good as new. Why don't you go back to bed and I'll come up to kiss you good night?"

James came over and hugged his other leg, and Harry didn't miss Ginny's soft sigh as he patted his son's hair. "Okay Dad. Just be more careful next time, okay?"

"I will," Harry promised, his son's big brown eyes intent on his own before James nodded and went back upstairs.

"So, tell me about it," Ginny said, glancing up at him again. Her stomach was already rounding out with their baby, her body used to the demands of pregnancy and all too prepared to accommodate. Harry's eyes softened as he looked at her. Her hands were softer now, the healing spells ones he could have performed himself, but he always let her do it if he was coming home. It was their wordless agreement, a compromise for his dangerous line of work.

"I need to talk to Hermione," Harry said. "I'm pretty sure Lucius' family is involved."

"I thought you already knew that," Ginny said, dabbing gently at the blood instead of using a harsh Scourgify on the tender, new tissue.

"We have pieces of evidence, but nothing conclusive still. The bastard was polyjuiced all the times I could track him."

"Who else?" Ginny knew he hadn't gone all that way for that. There had to be something else at stake.

"I'm not sure. I saw one without her glamour, so I hope someone knows who it is. I need to talk to Kingsley and Lucius."

"And Hermione," Ginny said fiercely, and Harry nodded.

"And Hermione."

* * *

"Where are you going?" Hermione's tone was suspicious, and Lucius raised an eyebrow innocently.

"I'm sorry, mummy, I wasn't aware I had a curfew," Lucius retorted, taking up his walking stick out of habit.

Hermione returned his glare with interest, her hand cocked on her hip. "I can think of only one reason why you would be leaving at this time of night, and I can verify that with a Floo call the second you leave. Harry is back, isn't he?"

Lucius sighed. It had been a futile attempt, he had known that from the start, but his pride had demanded it. "Yes, he is back. And we are going to the Potters'. Apparently, Ginny won't let him leave the house due to some injury he sustained."

"I'm going to get dressed. Don't you _dare_ leave without me." Hermione turned and went back up the stairs, glad that she had placed that disruption notification charm on Lucius' closet. She couldn't trust him as far as she could throw him.

"Damn Slytherins," Hermione muttered to herself, then started briefly when she saw Lucius leaning against the doorframe of her own closet.

"I would hate to disappoint such stereotypical expectations," Lucius retorted with little or no heat. He was well used to late night summons, while Hermione was not. He watched her don a pair of slacks and a light sweater, the slight bump of their baby now visible. "Ready?"

She was trying to tie back her hair and gave up, so Lucius tied it back for her with one of his ribbons.

"Thank you."

When they walked out of the Floo at Harry and Ginny's, Kingsley Shacklebolt was already there with a mug of tea and chatting quietly with Harry. They both looked up when Hermione and Lucius walked through, and Kingsley stood to greet them.

"Good evening. Harry has some things to report," Kingsley intoned, gesturing to the opposite couch with his free hand.

"Tea?" Ginny asked, levitating in a tray with tea and cakes, and bless her, digestive biscuits.

"Decaf?" Hermione asked, and Ginny nodded. "Yes please."

Lucius rolled his eyes at the trivialities and sat gingerly on the edge of the couch, as if the furnishings were somehow catching. Hermione snorted at this reminder of her husband's snobbishness, but remembered that he had been to the Potters' house at least once before so she was not going to give his pride any consideration.

"What did you learn?" Lucius asked without preamble.

"I picked up this polyjuiced wizard at the chateau you suggested, but since he was always polyjuiced, I wasn't able to tell who it was—although presumably he is one of your cousins as he was there, or a trusted associate of theirs, as the wards did not have any trouble with him coming and going."

Lucius nodded as if this was expected, and Harry continued, "He held several meetings, most frequently in public places with a middle aged witch whom I didn't recognize. I have the memory ready?" Harry held out a vial housing a solitary, silvery wisp, and Kingsley brought out his pensieve from the office. It was housed in a large box, as you could not shrink a pensieve without damaging it.

"Shall we?" Kingsley asked, looking at Hermione and Lucius before Harry poured the memory into the bowl and the three of them plunged their faces in. It was a tight fit, despite the large size of the Minister's pensieve. The light was poor, but both Kingsley and Lucius' mouths tightened when the woman's glamour faded. Hermione thought her face was familiar, but no more so than the many other witches who worked at the Ministry.

"Who is she?" Hermione asked as soon as they had all pulled out of the memory.

"Cornelia Dextrose," Lucius said.

"Assistant Undersecretary for Magical Transportation," Kingsley said, then met Lucius' cold eyes. "She's not high enough."

"Agreed. Someone else is pulling the strings within." Lucius' lips thinned. He had hoped to have more information on the Ministry's highly placed mole after Harry's trip.

"Tell me more about her," Harry asked.

"I've heard that name before…where have I heard that name…" Hermione was mumbling to herself, but Lucius ignored her and told Harry, "She's a frigid bitch."

"That's a bit harsh, Lucius," Kingsley said, although his lips had quirked briefly at the description. "In her early fifties, if I remember correctly. Unmarried. Been working at the Ministry since she joined it after graduating from Beauxbatons. A bit of a stickler for rules."

"That's it!" Hermione said as the piece of information she was chasing in her brain clicked into place. "Yasmin mentioned her. Lucius, I'm surprised you haven't heard more complaining about her—she is a match for Calvin Yaxley."

That bombshell was not well received by her husband, who stiffened up next to her. It was one of the rare moments that Hermione could recall him losing his composure so visibly. Kingsley turned his intent eyes to Lucius.

"Has he not mentioned his match?" The Minister's eyes were probing and Lucius recovered speedily.

"He only complained about not getting a pretty wife, but no, he never mentioned his choices to me. I was only aware that he intended to drag his feet about the matter as long as could be allowed."

"He should be interrogated tonight," Harry said, his eyes dark with suspicion. Hermione fervently hoped it was directed at Yaxley and not at her husband, but at the moment it was difficult to say. "If he's conspiring with them, he might have already been tipped off, but either way he needs to be brought in immediately."

"Agreed," Kingsley said. "Call Underwood, Harry, and get to it." He turned to Ginny, "I'm sorry to take him away again tonight."

"I understand," Ginny said in the tight-lipped manner that said she didn't like it but she would put up with it as with all the other inconveniences of life with an Auror, simply because it was being asked of her.

"Lucius, I want you to come in too," Kingsley said softly but in a manner that was clearly an order. "He might say something to you that wouldn't be said under an Auror's interrogation."

"Of course," Lucius said coolly, his emotions firmly and rigidly muzzled.

"But not until early morning," Kingsley said coldly. "Let him stew about it overnight."

It was unspoken that this also meant the Aurors would receive a bit more 'liberty' in their interrogation. Lucius knew full well what that meant, and had to swallow the bitter gall the knowledge induced. However, it was pointless and even hazardous to question its necessity.

"As you say."


	23. Obfuscation and Clarity

**Another update! A couple of things to note: there is a lot yet to be unraveled for you with our crew of dastardly villains, and let's face it, Hermione and Lucius have a lot of question marks still in their nascent marriage. However, I do want to continue to give you spots of light about the pair of them throughout the next little bit, which is decidedly going to look pretty good for our antagonists. It's not going to be smooth sailing for our newlyweds, either, but I have ended this chapter on a bit of a high note for them so I hope that will tide you over-because, to quote Margo Channing, "Fasten your seatbelts. It's going to be a bumpy night."**

**I also want to reassure you that eventually all the murkiness about what has happened in Ministry attacks and the kidnappings will be cleared up. It's just going to be tough for our protagonists to uncover all the nastiness, and it's going to be an ugly process. I already feel sorry for them. *ahem* Oh dear. I've said too much. I'll just say thank you for the recent reviews and let you get to it!**

* * *

Calvin Yaxley was tired, having been unceremoniously yanked from his apartment near midnight and brought to the spartan holding cell at the Ministry and he knew the mirth and frivolity was just beginning. At least the routine was predictable, given his experiences after the Dark Lord's defeat. The Aurors' questions had been ridiculous, but that was always true of the team sent to retrieve someone. The real games began when the designated parties arrived.

"Yaxley."

Calvin was wary as he regarded Pius Thicknesse, who was holding his wand with a calculating eye as he strode into the room. "I've always been suspicious of you, Calvin. Those dark times were very unpleasant for me, and somehow it's never quite come out who was responsible, hmm?"

"There were many assigned to the Ministry, Pius." Calvin's tone was level, but he hadn't missed the changeover to Unspeakables. Clearly Kingsley was very pissed off about something, and he wasn't hesitating to use the significant grey areas assigned to Dark activities.

"It's unfortunate that such a cloud hangs over you, Calvin. You _are_ clearly mildly redeemed, else the Ministry collar would choke you, but we both know there are ways around that, hmm? So perhaps you could be so good as to tell me what exactly you've been doing for Cornelia Dextrose."

_Ah_, thought Calvin. _That bitch has managed to entangle me in whatever she's involved in_.

"Other than the unfortunate fact that I'm supposed to marry the cunt, I'm afraid that I have not the pleasure of understanding what you mean." Yaxley appeared perfectly relaxed, and folded his hands in front of him as he leaned back in his chair and waited.

"I'm not at liberty to say…you understand, don't you Calvin?" Pius' voice was regretful, but they were both well aware that he was gleeful to have Yaxley in this position, and he was going to enjoy every minute of it.

"I'm certain you didn't drag me here because she tried to get me to use my position to enforce some of the more archaic Floo Network regulations, which tells me she must be suspected of something very Dark indeed," Calvin said. "However, seeing as I know nothing about that, why don't you cut through the crap and do whatever it is you're supposed to do to 'ensure my cooperation'?"

"Ah, Yaxley. Always so blunt. An unfortunate failing for a man of your less than salubrious background," Pius said even as a thin smile crept onto his face. "However, the Ministry has a great interest in what you know about Ms. Dextrose."

There was no struggle as shackles appeared and Pius immobilized Yaxley in his chair, then administered three drops of veritaserum.

"Let the games begin," Pius said, sitting with one hip on the table.

"Bring it," Calvin said calmly.

"Oh, believe me, we will," Pius said with a smirk, and an Unspeakable entered the room. "I'd introduce her, but you'll forget her in the end. Suffice it to say, she's a Legilimens."

Pius flicked his wand into its holster with practiced ease, and watched the witch immobilize Yaxley's head for good eye contact, her wand at the ready, then opened the door to exit the room. "Have fun, Calvin!"

_Yes, Kingsley Shacklebolt is good and pissed at someone_, Calvin thought to himself as he prepared for a flagrantly harsh interrogation. He felt the first assault on his Occlumency shields and mentally fortified himself. _It can't be worse than Voldemort_.

* * *

"When are you going?" Hermione asked, the small tic at Lucius' temple the only visible sign of his agitation. He met her eyes briefly before he returned to his selection of a waistcoat.

"Any earlier than eight and I will look guilty. And it would be poor form to be later than nine. I propose that we go in as normal at half past and I will see what has become of Calvin overnight as soon as you're in the office."

"Lucius." Hermione placed her hand on his shirtsleeve, and he stopped removing the green and black waistcoat from the hanger. Hermione knew he was not in a good mood to begin with, but she had to have this conversation before the situation deteriorated further.

"What does Kingsley have on you?" The question was soft but potent; Lucius' jaw clenched before he donned the waistcoat and turned to look at her without doing the buttons.

"What makes you think Kingsley Shacklebolt has any interest in me other than my position?" His words were slick with their usual razor sharp sarcasm, but Hermione recognized this for the defense tactic that it was. Somehow she knew she was on the right track.

"Notwithstanding the Ministry's professed desire to see the ex-Death Eaters reintegrated into society and your own wealth and skills at ingratiation and sycophancy, I find it difficult to credit the notion that Kingsley would have given you this position out of the goodness of his heart. Furthermore, I doubt you were keen to throw yourself back into the melee of Ministry dealings without your former influence, as I am aware you had to eat large amounts of crow when you did so. You're independently wealthy, and have no need to work there—which leads me to conclude that he or the Ministry in general has some sort of hold on you."

Hermione's arms were crossed over her chest, and again that slight bump taunted him. _Impossible position. Yet again I have been tricked into the closed coffin, and every day another shovelful falls. _Steeling himself for the necessity, Lucius cruelly replied, "Just now figuring that out, Hermione? I would have thought you would have used your considerable brain power to arrive at that conclusion when I was given the position you openly coveted. But of course, now you have a vested interest in me, don't you? What on earth happens to the new Mrs. Malfoy if her husband is found responsible for nefarious activities? Not to worry, I'm sure Draco wouldn't seek to deny you of too much in the way of funds, dear."

Hermione bit down on an angry response. He was provoking her to try and distract her, which meant she was close to the truth. She walked over to him and stilled his hands on his cravat, forcing him to meet her eyes.

"I'm not buying it. We both know I knew that a long time ago. But if I'm correct, Kingsley is calling in his chips—and since you are now my husband, I want to know exactly how tight your collar is."

Lucius removed her hands from his neckcloth and held them for a brief second before he let them drop and finished with the cravat. Finally he returned his gaze to his wife.

"I think we both know the danger of speaking further on this subject." Lucius was donning his cufflinks as he said so, and Hermione knew right then why he couldn't speak about it.

"Those bastards," she said softly, grasping Lucius' hand and wrist. "They've made you an indentured servant, haven't they? What are the terms?"

Lucius' eyes were swirls of cold silver. "What price freedom, witch?"

"And Harry knows, doesn't he? That is why he accepted it so calmly, they know you _couldn't_ do anything to me even if you had wanted to! And no one bothered to tell ME, the one who had to MARRY you!" Hermione was angry with herself for not questioning further, for allowing herself to get so lost in the pleasure of her research for its own sake that she handed over control to the Ministry. She had realized the cost when Lucius had been appointed, but she had chosen to bury her head in the sand and pay it quietly. She realized now that she could never afford the luxury of such a life, and in protecting the illusion for her that she could have it, her friends had all unwittingly placed her in danger. She looked at Lucius with anger snapping in her eyes. "I'll talk to Kingsley. This has to stop."

Lucius took hold of her and folded her into his arms. _Three months ago I'd have attempted to shake some sense into her_…the thought flitted quickly away as he focused on what had to happen. He had not had the luxury of such reflections for a long time, and whatever was stirring between them was decidedly dangerous at present. When he spoke, it was against her hair. Hermione could hear his voice rumbling through his chest.

"Listen to me, witch. You cannot do anything. I cannot speak. The only thing you can do is to continue as you have been, which is far more than I expected of you. And when we can, we will talk about it. Until then, at least a continuation of the facsimile of trust between us would be helpful."

"Who is behind this, Lucius? You know far more than you're telling me or them, and it's MY life, OUR CHILD'S life on the line. I need to know, damn it!" Hermione was annoyed with herself for not forcing this conversation sooner, for not insisting that Kingsley break his damn reticence and tell her exactly what he thought Lucius could do.

"I cannot tell you." Such iron words to be said cloaked with such warmth.

"But you understand why this makes it worse, Lucius," Hermione whispered, and he let his hands fall from her as she stepped back and pinned him with an agonized gaze. "Because now I don't know what you've done because you wanted to do it, and what has been forced on you. And the worst part is you can't even tell me, and how could I believe you if you did?"

Lucius did the only thing he could. He drew on his salvaged pride, his damnable pride and sense of duty. "I told you it would be hell, Hermione. I regret that you must writhe with me through the flames."

Hermione stiffened and nodded, pulling her own spine of steel into action. "From your words I trust that means you see the possibility of an end."

Lucius nodded minutely. She was no coward, his wife. As he escorted her to the Floo fifteen minutes later, immaculately attired, he thought that Kingsley Shacklebolt was the worst sort of manipulator to leave her dangling on the hook without the decency to tell her she was bait.

* * *

"Calvin."

The word was the same, but the wealth of meaning infused by the voice was entirely different. Calvin Yaxley looked up with hooded eyes, not bothering to sit up straight. To say that his night was uncomfortable was a bit of an understatement, but it was far, far less than either of them had experienced under Voldemort.

"Lucius." Calvin didn't say anything else. He didn't have to. With a master who was dangerously inclined to eavesdropping and the _Cruciatus_, they had all learned how to say what needed to be said with their eyes alone. Lucius was walking the tightrope still, and Calvin may have fallen off, but he was still hanging on.

"I'm afraid you didn't give me your felicitous news in a timely fashion," Lucius said in an offhand manner, setting his walking stick so it leaned against the table and taking the chair opposite Calvin.

"You'll pardon me. You seemed a bit overwhelmed with your own personal situation."

As Calvin replied, Lucius made a brief survey of the room. Calvin looked like a dipsomaniac deprived of his favorite booze, but that was to be expected. The tiled room was little changed from the last time Lucius had enjoyed the Ministry's hosting skills himself, but they had obviously dropped all pretense of subterfuge about eavesdropping and there was a glass window in place in the wall, opaque to the room's occupants of course. The reason for such a Muggle acquisition could only be that they had strengthened the wards, weakening the efficacy of wall charms.

"Well, that has occupied my attention. However, I find it strange that you never thought to mention _why_ Cornelia was suddenly pestering you so vociferously about Ministry affairs. Surely you would have seen fit to mention to me the little matter of your upcoming betrothal, if only so I might have wished you joy." Lucius was conversational, but the underlying frigidity clearly communicated his annoyance that his friend had sought to conceal the matter, and landed him in what was quite hot water.

"I was unaware that you were prepared or able to do anything about it, Lucius—and I would hate to be responsible for a smirch on your reputation as head of the department issuing the marriage decrees. After all, it is _your wife's_ invention that made such a situation possible," Calvin said bitterly. Lucius knew they were playing for their audience, which currently included Kingsley, Pius, and whoever else they may have added since he entered the room. Calvin was trying to tell him he was breaking the rules, and didn't want Lucius thrown into the shit with him.

"I was unaware that you were unhappily matched, Calvin. Tell me, had the Unspeakables paid you a visit yet?" Lucius asked.

"No, they had not. Apparently being a senior Ministry official they presumed I would fall in line when deadlines were approaching—and as you saw, Cornelia assumed the same. Frankly this seems all a bit much for a simple matter about a forced marriage!" Calvin was overdoing it now, and Lucius swallowed noticeably and fiddled with his cane.

"Please do not insult my intelligence in such a manner and pretend that is all that is wrong. I care not if you wish to insult your own, but it is beneath you to do so," Lucius replied with a hint of annoyance, then looked his friend in the eye. "What the hell have you done, Calvin?"

Calvin was equally steely as he met Lucius' glare. "Nothing to do with the arctic Cornelia Dextrose, I assure you. I'd have to be a Dementor to get close to that quim. And what I do to satisfy, thwart, or stall the Ministry marriage decree is entirely my own business, Lucius."

"So you admit to seeking to thwart the Ministry marriage decrees!" The voice was Pius Thicknesse's, and Lucius was visibly pissed off that Calvin had said so. There was more going on here than Calvin was letting on, and he was sacrificing himself for something, or someone. That he was equally certain it had nothing to do with the plot against Hermione and the Ministry's marriage agenda in general was irrelevant, because Calvin had just signed his own ticket to Azkaban, and the bastard knew it.

"You cowardly shit," Lucius hissed at Calvin as the door opened and a team of Aurors stepped in along with Kingsley Shacklebolt, who had a disapproving look on his face. Calvin and Lucius both knew that Lucius was referring to the fact that Calvin was taking a draw instead of fighting through the ugliness, which made Lucius' situation harder because not only would he be without an ally, but now he would feel honor bound to extricate Calvin from whatever mess he'd made in his personal life.

"Some things are worth it," Calvin whispered back as Kingsley turned from the Aurors and addressed Calvin.

"Calvin Yaxley, you are being remanded into custody at Azkaban to await trial for defying the Ministry's marriage decree. You are entitled to legal representation from a solicitor of your choosing, and you will be notified of the date of your trial when it is set. I am disappointed that a senior Ministry official such as yourself has chosen such a course of action. Take him away."

* * *

Lucius had a headache, but he couldn't bring himself to go to bed. Hermione had already gone up, licking her own wounds and keeping her thoughts to herself about their non-discussion in his closet this morning. She had kept her own counsel all day, apparently getting things done in the office while Lucius had brooded about what Calvin had said and not said before being carted off, and the impossible demands his wife was making of him.

"Why do we always have those talks in the closet, I wonder?" Lucius mused aloud, turning his glass of firewhisky to see the reflected flames before taking another swig.

"Drinking away your troubles?" Draco asked, folding his long legs as he took the wingchair opposite and crossed his hands loosely over his knees.

"Yet again I sit and wait, wondering when they will come for me." Draco eyed him, then removed the glass of firewhisky from his father's hand.

"That's enough of that, then." Draco's face was speculative, and he patted Lucius' knee. "Tell Daddy Draco all about it."

Lucius snorted with laughter, then leaned back and fixed hooded eyes on his son. "I hardly think your life experience qualifies you to give _me_ advice."

"Maybe not," Draco said slowly, "but I can listen, and I'm not hindered by the voluntary noose you've got."

"Touché," Lucius said, wandlessly and nonverbally summoning back his drink and taking another healthy swallow. "I've forgotten what a snide little shit you can be."

"I learned from the best," Draco said easily, then leaned back in a mimicry of Lucius' posture. "So, Granger's got her knickers in a twist about something. I'm assuming that's because she can't decide whether there is any truth in all the rumors of your murderous tendencies; or whether her friends could be so ignorant/careless/callous as to not inform her of your, shall we say, 'unique relationship' with the Ministry; or if she can trust anything you've said to her in your whirlwind courtship and subsequent marriage."

"Try all of the above," Lucius said, savoring the last of the firewhisky as it burned down his throat. He waved his hand to refill it but Draco stopped him, summoning the glass again to himself.

"Enough of that. You don't need firewhisky, you need to talk to your wife." Draco's eyes were open and calculating, and he leaned back again in the chair as Lucius frowned at him. "Oh, don't mistake me. I'm hardly the type to urge wearing your heart on your sleeve. But I do think you'd better tell Granger she at least has a piece of it, if you don't want her to fall prey to all the nasty self-deprecations swirling underneath that bushy frizz."

"I don't have the pleasure of understanding what you mean," Lucius replied, his words brittle and harsh despite their polite veneer.

"Of course you don't. Just as I don't understand why the devil you thought Aunt Thérèse would approve of her."

"I didn't think Thérèse would approve of her," Lucius retorted, sitting up finally in his chair.

"Of course you didn't. That's why you introduced her first thing, and I have yet to introduce Astoria even though we've been married for five years and have given her her only great-great-nephew. How silly of me."

Always one to know when to make an exit, Draco removed himself from the study.

"Impertinent, graceless sophist," Lucius muttered.

"You're welcome!" Draco shouted back, and Lucius summoned the empty glass purely for the satisfaction of throwing it at the door with a satisfying crash.

_Harry,_

_I am in dire need of some information about Lucius and the terms of his parole from the Ministry. I know that there have been some closed door dealings, but now that I'm married to him, I am subject to the same effects of those agreements if they are impacting our progress on the research and the broader threats against me and the Ministry. Somehow I get the impression that the parole that supposedly finished years ago never went away, did it?_

_I realize that a lot of things have been kept buried, probably for good reason. However, I am now in the position of not knowing what my husband can and cannot tell me, and what I can and cannot trust. This is an impossible situation, and I will not stand for it. If necessary I am prepared to camp out on Kingsley's doorstep and hex whoever tries to remove me if I don't get some answers! That includes you, Lucius, and Kingsley himself if he's not prepared to tell me exactly why the hell so much has gone on without ANY OF YOU telling me about it. _

_IF YOU GET THE IMPRESSION THAT I'M PISSED OFF, YOU'RE RIGHT! _

_If you don't respond tomorrow, I am going to sic the Weasleys on you en masse! Including your wife!_

_(possibly still) your friend-_

_Hermione Malfoy_

Satisfied with the contents of her missive, Hermione called her owl and sealed the scroll with some particularly nasty hexes, and keyed it to Harry alone. She let the owl go and shivered slightly. The nights were getting cooler now, and autumn was just around the corner. Pretty soon she would be trading the silk pajamas for flannel, whether Lucius approved or not. Turning from the window she padded softly to the bed and made herself comfortable. Lucius was in a foul mood after the morning on the detention floor, and he was probably going to drink himself into a decent haze before he came up. Resolved to work harder on the latest work on housekeeping genes and how they applied to gene families, Hermione tried to bury herself in the jargon of the papers before her but failed spectacularly.

"Ah, there is my wife, mother of my unborn child." Lucius' gait was remarkably steady, given how much he had had to drink. "Trying to be all things to all people, allowed, no, _encouraged_ to sacrifice herself for others time and time again, without full disclosure, and payment only in gratitude. If the irony weren't so cutting, I would find it incredibly witty. As it is, given my own sad situation, I can only deem it tragically farcical."

If she were being honest with herself, Hermione was glad of the excuse to send her paperwork to the escritoire with a flick of her hand. It felt good to be able to do simple charms wandlessly again, and a small smile crept unbidden to her mouth at the thought.

"So pleased I can amuse and entertain," Lucius said with a mocking bow, the slight overcorrection to his balance the only hint as to how much firewhisky he had actually imbibed.

"Please vent your spleen on someone else," Hermione said, but she did get up from the bed to help him with his cufflinks.

"Sod it, the elves can find them," Lucius grumbled, but Hermione pressed a finger to his mouth.

"Shush. You make a lousy drunkard, Lucius. You are far too coherent." Hermione was ruthlessly stripping his shirt, belt, and trousers in short order, less than surprised when his manhood sprang to attention. "I don't think so," Hermione said, using her wand to put his pajama bottoms on before she returned to bed.

"Bitch," he said without heat, then crawled in between the silk sheets and pulled the ribbon from his hair without bothering to be gentle about it.

"Ouch!" he complained to himself, and Hermione turned over to look at him as he flung the offending ribbon as far as it would go across the room.

"I've noticed that you always wear your hair tied back nowadays. Care to share the reason for that?" Hermione asked, resisting the urge to soothe him. He was like a wounded animal—he was just as likely to bite her as to respond to her in kind.

"Polyjuice. And it's easier to duel when it's out of the way," Lucius replied absently, the pleasant lassitude of the alcohol promising at least an easy start to sleep.

He was such a mass of contradictions, Hermione mused, watching his eyelids droop slightly, then close. He was one of the most malicious people he knew, but none of it had been directed at her since they married. Oh, he was quite good at superficial flaying, and that was doubtless applied in equal measure to all, but the really hurtful things…those he tried to spare her. Hermione leaned over to kiss him, and was surprised by the flutter she felt when she did so.

"Lucius! The baby moved!" Hermione was so surprised she woke him up, her hand gripping his arm hard enough that he came fully awake in an instant.

"What? What about the baby?" He focused immediately on Hermione's face, and the surprised delight on her face was completely out of character to what his brain supplied as their current stalemate.

"I felt it move," Hermione said, placing his hand low, where she had felt it. "I know it's to be expected, but I hadn't really paid much attention thus far and I've only read a few books…"

Lucius couldn't sort through the thoughts that whizzed through his head. He had enough sense left to realize that was dangerous at the present juncture, and the opportunity to achieve a détente. He heard himself say, "Could you get me a Sober Up potion, please?"

Hermione's brow raised in surprise, but she _Accio_'ed the potion from the bathroom wandlessly and handed him the vial, which he knocked back quickly. Thirty seconds later, Lucius felt a bit more prepared to contemplate his unborn progeny and his wife.

"We haven't…talked much about this baby," Lucius said slowly, leaving his hand on Hermione's gently distended belly. "We both know that is of necessity, but—I don't want you to be deprived of some of the basic joys of carrying a new life, simply because we are hard pressed to retain our own."

Hermione felt tears forming and cleared her throat. Lucius was eerily perceptive, and she placed her own hand on top of his and said, "I have been scared to think about it. It's just been something abstract, but with my clothes constantly changing, and now this, feeling him or her… It's just not what I pictured when I thought I'd eventually be pregnant."

Lucius sat up and coaxed Hermione to sit between his legs, her back pressed against his chest so he could wrap his arms around her and put both of his hands on top of hers on their child. He inclined his head forward so he could speak gently into her ear as his hands moved hers on her belly, tracing a soft pattern together. "This child will be loved by both parents. I will probably want to spoil it like crazy, and you will probably want to be irredeemably strict according to whatever book on parenting you feel is best. And no matter what we do, the child will grow up well, because it will be loved. And in the end, that is all that matters. Draco has taught me that a parent can screw up in any number of dreadful ways, but as long as your child knows that you love them, everything will work itself out eventually. And that, Hermione, is a gift that I do not doubt you already give this little one—because no matter how distracted you have been, or how scared you are of being pregnant, of carrying this child to term, and how fearful the unknown of mothering may be: you are incapable of doing anything less than throwing your whole heart into it. And that is why I do not worry about this child, nor do I worry about this marriage...much."

The last was said under his breath, but it made Hermione laugh and she twisted her head to meet his eye. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Lucius replied steadily, hoping she didn't notice the hitch in his breathing and the increase in his pulse.

"And thank you for protecting me, even if I don't think it's necessary all the time," she said grudgingly, which caused him to laugh in turn.

"I couldn't possibly be a pureblooded, aristocratic bastard without that, pet," he said sardonically, and she inclined her head in acknowledgement of that fact with the grace of a queen.

"So we are still trying, aren't we?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"I don't believe we ever stopped, dearest." He nuzzled her nose, placing a soft kiss there. Hermione's heart sped up as she said, "Thank you, love," and kissed him. It was a pet name, the way it tripped off her tongue, but it could be…more.


	24. Unplumbed Depths

**I hope all in the USA had a great Independence Day holiday! I had family fun and the time flew by. I had hoped to post this sooner, but how I arranged things was not sitting right with me. I rearranged the order of a few events from here on out and I think it flows much better. I hope you think it was worth the wait.**

**HPthe3rd: glad you like Lucius! **

**HG4Eva: Yes, well, I'm sorry to say they have a bumpy road ahead. I hope the end is worth it, however!**

**zeeksmom: Your request for more fun lemony fluff is going to be satiated shortly, not this chapter though because it's more plot advancement. But it is coming. :)**

**Alesia: Hmm, I cannot comment. However, we have not seen the last of poor Calvin. And your notes will pay off. I am dropping more hints this chapter about the baddies.**

**GlitterGrrrl05: LOVE all your reviews! Thank you! I love the detailed feedback, it's awesome.**

**jmullinax: Here you go! Let me know what you think!**

**Karen Bristow: Yes, poor Yaxley. We shall see what becomes of him-not today, however.**

**DibsOnBrigan: Glad you are enjoying all the twists and turns! **

**If I missed your review, I apologize! I hope you will continue to chime in!**

**Ok, things continue to be slowly revealed. And where IS Kingsley when you need him? Hmmm...stay tuned! Please let me know if you liked it! For fun, I imagined Jason Isaacs in real life when describing Lucius' glamour in this chapter, and the maternity book Draco seeks makes an oblique reference to the real life midwife Ina May Gaskin, whose maiden name was Middleton. **

* * *

"You fucking pompous coillon! You think you have the right to tell me what to do because you've kept your blood 'pure' through poisoning, murders, and strangling for the past five centuries? No wonder the Borgias married into your line, else you'd have assassinated them!" The tall man was practically dripping with contempt, his broad frame coiled with violence. His tone was vehement but Malfaille simply raised an eyebrow, quelling the irritated, bulky wizard with a look.

"This is very unnecessary," Cornelia began coldly, and from the other side of the room Antonin Dolohov's wand flicked with a soft but powerful _Crucio_. The witch writhed to the ground, the noises coming from her mouth not quite pain, her expression almost feral.

"Discipline your pet later," the wizard said with irritation, and Dolohov fixed him with a dark glare as he flicked his wand again and left Cornelia to her aftershocks.

"I'll deal with you later," Dolohov said, then fixed his attention on Malfaille. "And you, don't you tell me how to plan an attack. You just stick to your character assassinations and Imperiuses and keep your underused wand to yourself."

"I think we both know it is unwise to threaten me," Malfaille said quietly, the underlying threat implied by his casual air. "Now, if you don't mind, I have to see to those character assassinations that will bring us exactly the witch and information we desire."

The blond wizard snorted before Malfaille turned and disapparated from the room with a crack. Dolohov turned his attention back to the map spread before him, and pointed to a building. "There. That is the best vantage point from which to cast. I will want at least six of you here, here, and here."

"And what of me? Or did you break me out of Azkaban simply for the challenge?" Thorfinn Rowle asked, straightening up at the thought of an attack as Cornelia's gasps turned to soft pants from the floor.

"Don't worry, I've got a special job for you," Dolohov promised coldly, and the blond smirked.

* * *

"How is it that you can look so dignified even in jeans? Relax, Lucius!" Hermione hissed as she smiled at a man across the room. He was now a post-doc somewhere, but she had met him two years ago at another conference. Smiling in return, the man made his way across the crowded room, drinks in hand.

"Hey, how you are you? Sophia, right? I remember you from the Gordon conference in Korea, right?" He gestured to one of the drinks in his hand, but Hermione shook her head no and gave Lucius' arm a polite but firm yank.

"Please let me introduce you to my co-worker, Hamilton Mountbanks."

Lucius turned from scanning the crowd and scowled at the young Muggle, who was eyeing Hermione in a way that was entirely unacceptable. Hermione was wearing a mild glamour that she was using at Lucius' insistence, but it was not far enough from her true appearance as to render it difficult to renew acquaintances she had made with Muggle researchers before he became her boss. Lucius, on the other hand, had glamoured himself to be nearer Hermione's age, with short light brown hair and blue eyes.

"Pleased to meet you," the Muggle offered, nodding at the drinks in his hands as an excuse. His eyes widened slightly as Lucius pulled Hermione to him at the waist, a clear show of possession.

"Likewise," Lucius said coolly, his accent undeniably posh. Hermione inwardly rolled her eyes at his childishness. Really, she was _pregnant_! Granted, he hadn't let her show it here, but even with his slightly altered features, he was far more handsome than Samuel Thompson.

Samuel turned his attention back to Hermione. "So, Sophia, still working for that start-up you were telling me about? How is that gene family research coming along?"

"Yes, I am. Hamilton is our chemometrics expert," Hermione explained, letting her hand slide to rest on Lucius' bum. Two could play that game. Of course, her arrogant husband simply smirked as he chimed in.

"Yes, we have made good progress. In fact, we are hoping to speak to a few researchers, like Dr. Yin," Lucius said, referring to a genetics researcher from Malaysia. Hermione nearly started, but kept her mouth shut. They had agreed not to mention the two scientists that they really wanted to speak with, but she did not realize that Lucius was quite so well informed about the other Muggle researchers, nor that he would throw one into harm's way to deflect attention from themselves.

"Oh yes, she is quite a chemometrics expert. However, I don't believe she is supposed to be here until tomorrow—at least that is what Su said when I was talking to her earlier." Samuel continued chatting on about various graduate students and post-docs, and Lucius merely gleaned information as Hermione asked a few carefully worded questions. Spotting someone waving at him from across the room, Samuel finally excused himself, a bit regretful that he hadn't made a move on the pretty Sophia the last time he saw her.

"That Muggle wanted into your knickers," Lucius observed drily, "But I grant that he is a useful loose-lipped fool."

"You're cute when you're jealous, in a snarky sort of way," Hermione replied, steering Lucius toward the opposite side of the room. "I see Dr. Mullan. We're going to get some drinks and go have a chat."

Lucius noted the Aurors tailing the professor, wondering what on earth possessed Calvin to assign Ferdinand Aurelius to undercover work. His glamour was poorly held together, the shimmer obvious to experienced eyes. The wizard's wand hand was visibly twitching, and Lucius frowned. "Hold on a moment," he said, shifting so that he held Hermione by the arm instead of the other way around.

"Cast a shield charm, now," Lucius whispered, flicking his wand into his hand after casting a 'Notice Me Not' spell. Hermione's nonverbal magic was impressive, but she was still reliant on her wand for strong shield charms. They both saw the wand as Ferdinand drew it and prepared to cast, irrespective of the Muggles in the room. He was aiming right at Dr. Mullan, an affable looking gentleman whose large walrus mustache and thinning hair made him the archetype of a traditional Oxford professor.

"Protego!" Hermione's shield charm surrounded Dr. Mullan before Ferdinand's curse could hit him, and the other Auror and who they presumed to be an Unspeakable also assigned to the professor leapt into action, Muggles or not. Unfortunately, they were not the only magical folk present, and Hermione felt a curse impact the shield she had been holding over herself, whirling to find that green haired witch casting at her again. She reinforced her shield and sent a succession of stunners and jinxes at the agile witch, pleased when one connected, but annoyed that it was so weak that the woman was able to cast it off easily.

"Duck," Lucius said, sending a powerful _Alarte Ascendare_ at the witch, which saw her plummeting skyward in the large ballroom, cracking her shoulder on a large, modern chandelier before she halted herself and plummeted back toward the ground. They could not afford to see what happened to her, because Lucius' own shield was nearly rent by a very powerful curse.

"Your spells are weaker than mine! You focus on protective shielding for both of us, and I'll take them down or get us out of here, whichever is easier," Lucius snapped, whirling them both to face the new threat—Thorfinn Rowle. Lucius' face was briefly overwhelmed by his rage, the _Crucio_ that flew from his wand after a diversionary jinx one of the strongest he'd ever given in his life. He took vicious pleasure in seeing that it hit home, splintering the shield charm and bringing the bulky blond to his knees as the tremors wracked his body. He wasn't allowed to hold it, however, because Antonin Dolohov sent a vicious pulse right at Hermione, and he knew that her shield would not be enough. Shield penetrating curses were one of Dolohov's specialties, and Lucius would be damned before Dolohov would carve up his wife again.

"Protego!" Lucius used the verbal incantation to make it stronger, parrying the curse as Hermione petrified Rowle. It would hold long enough to get them out of range of the next thing Dolohov would try, and out of the corner of his eye he saw the green haired witch cruelly cut down Simeon Venugopal to make her way back toward them. There were several other witches and wizards dueling now—presumably the American Aurors had joined the fray. Muggles were screaming, ducking, and trying to get out, but the doors had been sealed, rendering the entire scene chaotic and dangerous as Muggles fell from stray curses.

"Duck!" Hermione pulled him to the side and cast with all her might, "_Cataegis gelido_!"

The normally inoffensive weather spell she had modified as a means of keeping Snatchers at bay was a potent force in the closed ballroom, the gale-force winds and hail causing all present to be distracted, and in the case of Green Hair Girl, blown back thirty feet by the power of the spell. It had cost her, though, and Lucius could see the shield she was trying to hold over them both weakening significantly. He looked around the room for a quick exit—they needed to get out of here, now.

"Lucius, Mullan!" Lucius turned his head and saw as Rowle decapitated the Auror defending the professor, then grabbed him and winked out after clasping a pendant around his neck.

"Fuck," Lucius said, but he couldn't worry about the professor's fate now. Dolohov was back at them, and Lucius was hard pressed to parry his curses between his own vicious curses. Hermione knew they needed to leave as well, and spotted the means.

"Up," she hissed, keeping the witch who was reapproaching busy with minor jinxes. They were aided by an unknown wizard who was engaging the witch from the left as well, which was probably the only thing that kept her from being more dangerous, as Lucius was fully involved with Antonin.

"_Serpensoria vipera_," Lucius hissed, the spell sounding much like Parseltongue. Dolohov would know how to counter it, but he split the spell, a second, smaller viper slithering right to Antonin's leg while the wizard pulverized the larger snake. As the viper's fangs sank in, Hermione verified her aim and hold on Lucius, then cast a nonverbal _Ascendio._ Lucius immediately threw his own, more powerful spell behind hers, and they rocketed through the skylight in the center of the ballroom, a shower of glass falling behind them.

* * *

"_Accio_!" Lucius' wand flew, all of their belongings assembling themselves with lightening speed in their case. He had discarded the glamour in the hall the second they had been attacked, but he was still in the Muggle jeans and long-sleeved shirt, the beautifully fitted sport coat discarded carelessly.

Hermione was so tired she could not even help him, and she doubted he would appreciate any attempts to try. They needed to leave, the portkey already made by Lucius the second they were back in the hotel room. The mess at the conference would have been dealt with by the American authorities—they had no idea how long the fight had continued after their hasty exit.

"We have to tell Kingsley and Harry right away," Hermione said, and attempted to conjure her Patronus. Unfortunately, her magic was so weak that it was a fuzzy cloud, and Lucius snatched her wand away from her before she could properly cancel the spell.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he hissed. "You are far too depleted to even attempt such a thing! Do you _want_ to endanger the baby's life?"

"You mean any more than I have already?" Hermione half quipped, but there was no arguing the fact that she was hardly likely to have an untroubled end to her pregnancy. "He's still moving, don't worry."

Lucius pressed a hand briefly to her belly, a short press and caress as if he needed the physical reminder that their child was still there.

"I don't suppose you can cast a corporeal Patronus?" Hermione asked weakly, and Lucius met her eyes before issuing a curt, "No," and returning to the case, shrinking it and taking her hand and the portkey. "But I believe Draco can. He will be waiting."

If he was curious about why she wanted to use a Patronus, he kept it to himself, and with a quick tap of his wand they were pulled into the portkey and straight back to the Manor.

"What the fuck have you two done now?" Draco asked as Hermione accepted a kiss on her cheek from Astoria. Both were clothed in their pajamas and robes, waiting in Lucius' study.

"Draco, can you cast a corporeal Patronus?" Hermione asked unexpectedly, and Draco shook his head.

"Not the last time I checked," Draco said, but Astoria spoke up.

"I can."

"What a treasure you are," Draco said, frank admiration in his gaze before he swiveled his grey eyes back to Granger.

"Unplumbed depths," Lucius said to himself as he made Hermione sit down. "Narcissa was right."

"But why do you need one?" Draco asked, and Lucius was glad his son had asked the question he was too proud to ask himself.

"I need to send a message to Harry, and you can do that through a Patronus charm," Hermione explained, seeing the light dawn in Lucius' eyes.

"Damn clever of Dumbledore," he admitted, certain the meddling wizard was responsible.

"Yes. Astoria, could you please?" Hermione asked, and Astoria produced her wand and cleanly cast, "_Expecto Patronum_!"

A silvery kestrel burst forth, and Hermione told Astoria, "Now you call it over to you and give it your message, and the person it needs to deliver it to."

It did require some precision with her wand, but Astoria was nothing if not precise. She spoke to her Patronus, "Find Harry Potter and tell him he needs to come to Malfoy Manor immediately, and to summon the Minister."

The kestrel bobbed its tail once and then flew off, its speed commensurate with the animal.

"Well, that gives me incentive to keep attempting the corporeal, I suppose," Draco said, catching Astoria's hand easily in his own. "Nice clothes," he remarked, causing Lucius to glare at his progeny.

"A necessary evil," Lucius huffed. He thought he might have time to change before Potter arrived, but Hermione's lids fluttered and Lucius immediately slid alongside her on the chaise. "Draco, Hermione!"

Draco slipped into Healer mode, and called for Firkin to retrieve his potion stock. "She's depleted quite a bit—she'll need a solid 24 hours of rest—_Accio_ Parous Pepper-Up!"

The small bottle zoomed into his hand, and he poured the potion into a very drowsy Hermione's mouth while Lucius held her head.

"Keep still, Granger," Draco ordered in his no-nonsense tone of voice, passing his wand over her body and carefully checking her vital signs and those of the baby. "Circe, Hermione, you don't do anything by halves…she's very low, I am going to have to check into whether it's safe to give her a _Reficiat_ philter or not. I think so, given that she's almost six months, but I want to be sure."

"Which book do you need?" Astoria asked swiftly, and Draco turned his head to his wife.

"Huldah Middleton's _Menses, Gravidation, and Menopause_," Draco replied, watching carefully as Hermione's eyelids slowly opened again and Astoria went to the library to fetch the tome.

"Is Harry here yet? I admit to feeling a bit tired," Hermione said, aware that both Lucius and Draco were watching her like a hawk, Lucius having somehow practically pulled her onto his lap. "I fainted, didn't I?" she sighed, as if disappointed with herself.

"You're very depleted," Draco said again, and Hermione snapped at him in irritation. "You're still not up to full strength because of the pregnancy."

"Yes, I know that! But it was that or allow one of us to be killed—which option would you pick?"

"When will you _listen_ when I tell you that you must restrain your exuberant impulses?" Lucius growled. "I could have taken us out of there entirely, but just one spell more…"

Hermione ignored him and turned her attention to the fireplace, where the flames had turned green in the brief second before Harry walked through. He was fully dressed, which was unusual, but his first words explained that.

"I've been called into the Ministry. I am betting you know why that is—care to explain before I go hear the official, bastardized version of events?"

Astoria returned with the book and handed it to Draco, who used his wand to go straight to the relevant pages. "Ah, yes, good. The _Reficiat_ potion is fine after the fifth month."

"We were at the Muggle research conference in the States, and there was an attack on Dr. Mullan of Oxford," Hermione began, but then found herself staring at an extremely large vial of a potion that smelled highly unpleasant.

"Drink it. Small sips, over ten minutes. I will time you." Draco's stern expression reminded her of his arrogance in school. Hermione took the first sip and nearly gagged.

"I know, it's dreadful. I'll get some tea for when you're done," Astoria said, summoning a tray from Twigs.

Harry turned his attention to Lucius, who, after assuring himself that Hermione would continue to take the potion, looked Harry straight in the eye and asked, "Why was I not informed that Thorfinn Rowle was broken out of Azkaban?"

Harry was stunned. "What? Are you sure?"

"Considering that I was twelve feet away from him, yes, I'm sure!" Lucius snarled. "There has been at least one wizard broken out from Azkaban. I suggest your superiors, and I use that term very loosely, be made aware of it!"

"Shit. Kingsley is going to be pissed. I can't tell Underwood without clearing it through Kingsley," Harry said apologetically. "Things have been…complicated of late with the chain of command."

"I'll say," Lucius' voice was cold. "In any case, he was working with Dolohov. Rowle grabbed Mullan and portkeyed him away. We recognized some of the attackers from Hogsmeade Wood, but with the Americans in the fray and at least one Unspeakable, I haven't a clue how many there were."

"What about the Muggles?" Astoria asked, Draco still keeping a close eye on Hermione's dosing and subsequent shuddering as she worked to keep the potion down.

"I don't know how many were hit, but there were several. They sealed the doors," Lucius said sourly. "I have no doubt that several were killed, and in some unpleasant ways."

"Fuck," Harry muttered under his breath, then looked at Lucius and Hermione. "That explains why I'm being called in then. We've probably got the American Auror department crawling up our arses to explain why you were there, why they weren't notified, why you didn't have a protection team…" Harry trailed off as he considered the many vectors for the shit that was doubtless traveling at high velocity through the Ministry.

"I'd say that is why Kingsley is not here," Lucius remarked grimly. "And we did not get a chance to talk to Mullan or Dr. Hayes before chaos descended."

"We'll have to set up an individual appointment with Dr. Hayes," Hermione interjected. "It's too important not to," she said by way of explanation when Lucius opened his mouth to forbid it. Instead he gritted his teeth, because she was correct, they needed to speak to the woman. Instead he stood and strode over to his desk, looking for something to either smash or drink.

"Uh, Mr. Malfoy? You're bleeding. It's coming through your jeans. Just…there." Harry finished lamely, pointing at an area rather high up on Lucius' left hamstring. Draco looked at his father's backside in the snug jeans and grinned. Potter was right—the dark fabric made it difficult to tell.

"Another five minutes and I'll see to that," he said cheerfully, watching the time tick down as Hermione dealt with a particularly violent urge to retch.

Now that Potter had pointed it out, he felt the sting of the nasty cutting curse. Doubtless it was something from Dolohov, which meant Draco's technique would have to be a bit more harsh. He felt quite violent, all things considered, but refused to give in to the childish pique that tempted him to throw his goblin crystal inkwell into the hearth. Instead, he settled for the pointless inanity of cursing.

"Fucking piece of goblin whoreson!"

It was the first of several colorful curses that flew from his lips when Draco was finally allowed to get down to the business of healing the gash in the privacy of Lucius' bathroom.


	25. Blurred Lines

**Hello faithful readers! Well this has been a PITA of a week, frankly, as my laptop power connection failed and now I'm waiting for a part, and relying on my old desktop for writing. This is difficult with 3 kids to watch, so I have not made as much progress as fast as I'd like. I also have family members visiting now and for another week. So, bear with me. My patience is being as sorely tested as yours, I assure you!**

**Loving how many new followers and fans this story has accumulated! THANK YOU and welcome!**

**A big thank you and shout out to zeeksmom for some detailed and great constructive criticism regarding my mysterious baddies at the start of the last chapter. I made some edits based on her comments, so if you read it early, go back and re-read, and I hope that makes it clearer for you. **

**Alesia G, great detailed feedback as always! I hope I don't disappoint with this chapter!**

**I'm sorry to leave so many out, I want to throw this up while I can and hope you enjoy it. A couple of notes, Oxford dates to the mid 11th century, prior to the wizarding Statute of Secrecy, so that's an interesting tidbit. Also the item Lucius gives Hermione was based on a real artifact found in Vix, France. And, this chapter has a LEMON so if that's not your thing, skip on past it! Thank you!**

**Please, let me know what you think with the Review button! Thank you!**

* * *

"Your wife is becoming a bit of a pain in my ass, Lucius," Kingsley said as he and Lucius approached his office to find Hermione waiting to pounce.

"It's a daily event in my house," Lucius remarked tightly. He was extremely unhappy with Kingsley at the moment, but none of his complaining had done any good. The Muggle casualties from the conference had let loose a flurry of investigations in how the uproar in the magical community was affecting the Muggle one, and now some snot-nosed shit of an up and coming reporter at the Prophet had made a convincing case tying together a string of Muggle disappearances with a hack into the Forensic Science Service's genetic database. Apparently the Muggle breeding harvest had begun.

"I expect a report on the situation in France within three days." Kingsley faced an annoyed Hermione. "How can I help you?"

"You have a meeting in five minutes, Minister," Kingsley's assistant said before Hermione could speak. She threw a pointed look at her husband, who ignored her and looked elsewhere.

"I would like to know exactly what the Ministry is holding over my husband and the other supposedly pardoned Death Eaters." Kingsley's assistant was obviously eavesdropping, so Kingsley waved his wand to cast the three of them in a silencing bubble and turned the full force of his attention to Hermione.

"I realize that your family is bearing the brunt of the repercussions of the Ministry's policies, and I am truly sorry for that. However, you are well aware that there are many things which I am not at liberty to discuss, notwithstanding your personal involvement."

Kingsley's tone was patient without being condescending, but Hermione was still frustrated by the stonewalling and said so.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt, I had not thought you such a—_politician_ to feed me a policy statement instead of being honest about what is going on here. I am not so idiotic as to realize that your placement of Lucius and Calvin Yaxley was a calculated move in response to some type of threat, and given recent events it's hard to conclude anything other than my work as the cause."

Lucius looked bored and appeared to be ignoring her completely, unwilling to offer any assistance in her attempts to weasel some information out of Kingsley. She already knew where Lucius stood—if Kingsley would only give her something!

"There are many things that go on amongst pureblood families that are missed by newcomers to our community. Rather than focus on what Lucius is and is not doing in aid of the Ministry, perhaps it would be a better use of your talents to focus on pureblood marriage traditions in the hope of finding the pattern that has thus far evaded us."

Kingsley flicked his wand and dropped the bubble, a clear dismissal even if his expression was regretful. Hermione felt no less frustrated, but at least he had given her something to do in addition to the genetics work. She was piqued enough to not acknowledge Kingsley as she left the office. Lucius gave a nod to Kingsley and fell into step alongside his wife, the Auror detail assigned to Hermione discreetly following behind.

"That was a complete waste of time," Lucius observed, "Unless, of course, your aim was to increase your blood pressure."

"Piss off, Lucius," Hermione said loftily. "I have work to do in the lab."

Lucius went off to speak to Yasmin about his absence from the office. He was going to frame it as a trip to deal with Malfoy Apothecary business, leaving the destination vague. Hermione would not be pleased about the fact that she wasn't going to accompany him, but he would leave that tidbit for when they were at home. No need to cause more rampant gossip about their apparently hot and cold relationship in the workplace.

* * *

"Are you quite sure this is necessary?" Hermione asked as she paced to the opposite side of the room from Lucius, her wand in hand.

"Absolutely. You are slower and your magic, while passable, will not be back to its full potency for probably another month, when the baby is generating enough of its own. Thus, you need the practice and a few more spells in your arsenal."

Lucius was quite calm, attired in a pristine white shirt and his usual intricately embroidered vest, but without his coat. He had his hair tied back and the curly maple wand was held almost lazily in his hand. Hermione was not fooled, however. He was not going to give her the luxury of an advance warning before he cast.

"I was able to hold my own quite well against Dolohov," she reminded him, warily holding her own vine wand at the ready.

"You wouldn't now," he said with certainty, throwing a stunner and jelly legs jinx in quick succession. She dodged the stunner but her Protego was weak and the jelly legs jinx hit, which caused her to spin on her feet. Hermione felt herself falling but before she could hit the ground Lucius was there, grabbing her forearm to stop her fall. Hermione wordlessly ended the spell, but was surprised that she could feel the sensation of her nerves reawakening for a brief second before she was back in full control of her legs.

"I trust you see the necessity now," Lucius said, his grey eyes stormy with the irritation he always developed when she argued with him and he knew he was right.

"It must be so tedious, being such a know-it-all," Hermione said with a dash of snark, and Lucius quickly retorted,"You would know, witch—but as I promised you, you don't know it all."

The next half hour passed relatively easily, with Lucius demonstrating a few obscure hexes that were relatively inexpensive to perform but likely to cause an opponent difficulties during an attack, such as one hex that caused the opponent's feet to be covered in blisters, or another that caused near blindness by fixing their irises wide open.

"And you follow that with a strong _Lumos_."

Hermione could see the advantage but was annoyed even though Lucius had been patient, and on impulse she challenged him. "Lucius, I don't need any more hexes."

"You think that holding your own against a full-fledged attack like the conference will be possible?"

Hermione sighed. "I am honest enough to admit that being pregnant has slowed me down. However, I think I can last ten minutes just fine, but I don't want to win, I just want to be able to get away."

A glimmer of something passed across his face, but Hermione could not decipher what it meant. "Very well," he drawled. "Perhaps it would be best to focus on how to get away from someone if they catch you."

"_If_ you can catch me," Hermione said, her eyes narrowing.

Lucius grinned and disapparated, reappearing with a puff of smoke behind Hermione. She whirled and flung a sequence of jinxes and hexes at him that he admitted was impressive. She was speedy but the spells lacked her customary zing, and he easily shook off the stunner that hit him. He flicked curses just to her left or right, herding her toward a room behind her, a fact that she realized a second too late as he caught her with a full body bind, and her wand with an _Expelliarmus_. He didn't let her fall, pulling her against him as he whispered in her ear, "I caught you, kitten…now, what shall I do with you?"

Hermione felt the body bind dissolve wordlessly and turned to take in her husband's expression. "If my kidnapper was careless enough to let the body bind go, I would attack with Muggle defensive moves."

"But your attacker won't be that foolish, which is why I want you to wear this at all times."

Lucius waved his wand and drew forth a curious piece of jewelry, which Hermione recognized. It was thick gold, the ends large balls with small Pegasus figures on either side.

"How old is that torc?"

Lucius' eyes softened. "Of course you would know what this is. It has been in our family for a very long time. More importantly, it holds many enchantments, specifically for a pregnant woman. This will remain undetectable while you are wearing it, and in cases of dire emergency, you may draw on its power to perform one magical act."

Hermione did not need to ask why such an object would exist. If it were geared to a pregnant woman, it was obviously a last ditch, survival mechanism for a family facing annihilation.

"You are descended from the Gauls, aren't you?" Hermione asked, although it was a pointless question. The fact that the Malfoys had originally come from France coupled with the age of this torc made it a foregone conclusion.

"I have only given you some of the more recent history of my family, Hermione. There is much left in the shrouds of the past, some of which is quite brutal." Lucius turned her around and placed the torc around her neck.

"It will disappear from view within a minute," he said, resisting the impulse to place a kiss on her neck. His mind was on Kingsley's demand that he go to France, and he knew he could not delay the trip.

"Thank you, Lucius," Hermione said, turning to face him again. "When do you have to go?"

"Tonight," Lucius said tightly. "A few activities will benefit from the new moon."

Hermione did not want to consider what kind of activities required the dark of night. "What of the office?"

"Stay home."

"I can't do that, and you know it," Hermione replied, and Lucius' jaw tightened.

"Why must you argue every step I take to ensure your safety?" As if to emphasize his point, Lucius put his hand over their child, who helpfully gave him a kick. "Even our baby knows better."

"That was a kick of protest," Hermione said stubbornly.

"No, _this_ is a kick of protest," Lucius retorted, pulling Hermione's feet out from under her with a swiftly executed move that had him flipping her onto a large cushion on the floor before she could blink. "Stay. Home."

"Make me," Hermione insisted, snaking a hand down Lucius' chest when she noticed a slight change to her clothing. "It seems your game has a markedly sensual turn."

Lucius turned her around and a blindfold materialized, covering her eyes with dark, soft silk. "I'm always happy to play with you, wife."

Hermione could only feel as Lucius' sure hands steadily uncovered her skin, inch by inch. She felt his lips caressing and teasing her flesh as he worked steadily from her lower back up her spine, his hands delving beneath to caress her swollen belly, his fingers gently massaging along the sides until they encountered her firm, ripe breasts.

"Oh I love how ripe your body has become with my child," Lucius murmured, and Hermione turned her head so she could taste his mouth. She felt his long hair caress her shoulder, and as he pressed her slightly down she realized he had lost his clothes, his warm chest with its sparse hair a titillating sensation.

"Lucius, please," Hermione asked as his hands moved back down, caressing her hips and moving purposefully inward. Her breath caught in her throat as his fingers played. He leaned forward and felt the bliss of her body tight around his, then stilled and whispered in her ear, "Stay home while I'm away."

Hermione gritted her teeth, stubbornness warring with the needy sensations he was generating. "No."

"Impudent witch," Lucius said, gripping her hips roughly as he brought more of his experience to bear. With her surging hormones Hermione was primed most of the time, but this was the first time Lucius had taken her in this position and the fullness was beautiful.

"Ahhh…oh God, please Lucius," Hermione was so close, but her wretch of a husband stilled again and had the gall to say, "Stay home."

"No!" Hermione pushed back against him, rotating her hips in a little circle that caused Lucius to lose focus from the pleasure.

"Harder!" Hermione's voice was needy and she grabbed one of Lucius' hands, placing it on her aching breast and pushing back hard against her husband.

"Fuck," Lucius could not help himself, his hips pistoning without his permission and bringing them both to a hard and heady climax.

"LUCIUS!" Hermione was loud enough to be heard throughout the house, but she was too blissful to care.

Lucius pressed a kiss between her shoulder blades as he slid out of her. "Succubus."

Hermione turned onto her side and watched him blow a strand of hair out of his eyes and wordlessly Summon his robes, ignoring the clothes strewn about the room.

"Mmmmm, you like it," Hermione replied naughtily, not bothering to don a robe herself. She knew how she must look, like a delectable, just shagged treat lain temptingly before him. She was hoping to engender a repeat performance, only this time in their bedroom instead of on the hard floor of the dueling chamber, cushion notwithstanding.

"I'm quite pleased with your naughty side, Hermione," Lucius said, letting his hand drift down her front as he helped his nude wife to her feet. "And your naughty front too."

"When are you leaving again?" Hermione asked as she gently nipped his earlobe.

"Oh, I think I can spare an hour or two," Lucius murmured. This time Hermione had no complaints when he disapparated them both directly to their bedchamber.

* * *

While Hermione could not say she was fond of maternity wear, she did find her work clothes to be cute as well as comfortable. It was only in dresses that she felt like a heifer, but the time of year precluded that, quite frankly. Sensible woolen trousers and a belted cardie in a russet red made for a charming outfit, and it was easy to shed the cardigan in the office. The torc Lucius had given her lay heavy against her neck, and it felt odd to wear a necklace along with it, so she left her neck apparently bare. She and Lucius had stalemated on the question of her going to work in his absence, and Hermione had decided that meant she should continue in the status quo. She donned a low heeled boot and went downstairs. Ten minutes until she had to leave. Perfect.

"Tell me, Granger, do you make a habit of reading the Prophet before work?"

Draco's presence at the breakfast table was unusual, but it was the question that caught her attention. She grabbed a piece of toast and replied absentmindedly, "No, why?" before sitting down to a hot cup of tea.

"I think you'd better read it today," Draco said drily, sliding the paper in front of her.

**_SQUIB TESTING SCANDAL!_**

**_Top Muggle Researcher Discredits Hermione Granger-Malfoy's Work_**

**_By Rita Skeeter_**

**_In an exclusive interview, Muggle researcher Dr. Leonard Mullan, who has been granted access to part of Ms. Granger-Malfoy's work, claims that the interpretations of the gene family's behavior are "bizarre" and a "far reach" from the established Muggle science of genetics._**

**_"It's hard to conclude how an experienced researcher could have interpreted the data this way, but I think it likely that an inexperienced one could leap to the wrong conclusion. This is why we rely on peer review and the feedback of other researchers."_**

**_Dr. Mullan is a leading figure in the Muggle research community and is based at Oxford University, an institution which is well known to the wizarding community for its Potions and Astronomy Mastery programs. He was given access to data that was copied from the Ministry by a group of wizards who call themselves The Watchers. The group's spokesman also spoke with this reporter:_**

**_"It's a simple matter of keeping the Ministry honest. They do not have the best track record for being honest with the wizarding public, and after such an intrusive law was passed, we felt it necessary to obtain copies of the data by whatever means necessary. In this time of overwhelming interest in the problem of Squibs and Muggle genes, we wanted an impartial opinion on the research of one person which has driven this offensive and ugly law."_**

**_The spokesman was, of course, referring to Hermione Malfoy, nee Granger, whose work has provided the impetus for the Ministry's recent Marriage Law and push to register the genetic information of all children in wizarding Britain. While best known for her role as part of the "Golden Trio" during the war against the Lord Voldemort, Mrs. Malfoy's path has been questionable of late. After spending several years immersing herself in the culture of her youth, Ms. Granger returned to work at the Ministry on her genetics research, convincing friends in high places of her work's importance and its role in the distressing increase in Squib births. Then, Ms. Granger was conveniently matched with her Ministry supervisor, the ex-Death Eater Lucius Malfoy. _**

**_Some pureblood families have called into question how Ms. Granger, the sole author of the system for determining matches, was matched with a family of such wealth and with such a colorful past. Speaking confidentially, one senior member of a well-known Pureblood family confessed he was pressured into giving up the family's confidential marriage records. "If I had known on what a flimsy basis the demand was made, I would have filed a complaint with my solicitor before handing over the records."_**

**_Dr. Mullan, who is back at work in his lab at Oxford, commented that Muggles are often uneasy with the amount of information that can be gained from their DNA, and pointed to controversies in the Muggle government concerning how such information was collected and safeguarded. _**

**_"I would be extremely concerned if such details were not being shared with the public, and would seek assurances that the information was not available for nefarious purposes."_**

**_Dr. Mullan was removed recently from a Muggle research conference to examine the data. While the Ministry line is that this took place under nefarious circumstances, Dr. Mullan himself contradicted the claim of violence. _**

**_"I was asked to consult on the case and agreed to take a look at preliminary data on site. I was made aware after the fact that a fracas had broken out at the conference—apparently a disgruntled graduate student opened fire. Terribly tragic event, one hates to read of such crimes, much less be close to them. I extend my deepest sympathies to the families of those affected."_**

**_This contradicts the account being put forward by some within the Auror division about the turn of events. As the fracas occurred in America, it is understood that the American Aurors are in charge of the investigation, and will not release their analysis for some months. However, it would be remiss of this reporter to fail to note that the Auror Division has recently been roiled by the scandalous removal of its Head, Calvin Yaxley. Yaxley refused to comply with the Marriage Law and has been sent to Azkaban as a warning to other witches and wizards contemplating such defiance. I shall dare the Ministry's disapproval and ask: if one of the Ministry's own is defying the Law that has resulted from Mrs. Malfoy's work, what does that say about the state of the Ministry? _**

Hermione looked up when Draco thrust a small roll of tied parchment in her face.

"Don't worry, I've checked it for hexes," Draco said. "Ministry correspondence."

Hermione was breathlessly angry from Skeeter's story, but she broke the seal and read the short note.

_Mrs. Malfoy,_

_On the advice of the Minister, I hereby inform you of a suspension in work duties for a week. Please note that the Unspeakables assigned the Manor have been doubled in number. Oh, and do not attempt to contact your co-workers, please._

_Sincerely,  
Pius Thicknesse_

_Head, DMM_

_Temporary Head, DMLE_

Draco read the note over her shoulder. "Shite. This is going to blow back on me at work. I'd better go see if I can diffuse some nastiness right off the bat. Tell Tori not to worry, I'll be home again if it's too ugly."

Hermione was speechless.

"Oh, I'd send an owl to Father if I were you. He's going to want to know you aren't storming the Ministry."

Draco dodged the jampot that Hermione sent flying to the doorway. "Right, I'll take care of that for you then Granger. Enjoy your mini-break!"


	26. Manic Machinations

**Well, lots to say wonderful readers. Obligatory disclaimer of course, just a reminder that HP universe belongs to JKR. Glad you are enjoying my little romp there. **

**I have had a plethora of real life hitting me, some more pleasant than others. Family members who were visiting have now departed (yay), my laptop is irretrievably broken (boo), real life homeowner troubles (boo), and time spent with my kiddos (yay). So I am using the desktop for a bit until I can save enough for the replacement laptop, which curtails writing time. I've given up estimating times, I do abjectly apologize for this delay though. The combination of events was quite unfortunate (though not quite Lemony Snicket-esque in scale). **

**SOOO thankful to all who have reviewed! A Deca I hope you are still reading. Dragoon gal I am happy you are back reviewing! Alesia G, same goes! And zeeksmom thank you for your detailed comments! Kezz, thanks for the thumbs up.**

**I realize I have probably misspelled handles and so on, I am sorry. I just want to post this as fast as possible for you all. Next chapter is already in progress, although what that means in terms of timing who knows with my life! Thank you for sticking with this, I hope I can reward you with a faster update. Cross your fingers for me! Thanks. :)**

* * *

The French countryside was charming, he'd always thought. It was difficult to appreciate, however, when one had to skulk around in hedgerows and use a myriad of glamours and Polyjuice while darting between it and Paris or Le Havre. Lucius abhorred disguises. Perhaps it was part of his innate arrogance as a wealthy Pureblood, but it was rare for him to have to resort to hiding in shadows, a Muggle's coarse face disguising his patrician features. Even more grating was the fact that the person he was tailing was a vindictive, viperous wizard, and therefore he had to adopt a deep cover and could not communicate at all with anyone at home. He ought to know—Bertrand was doing what he himself would do.

"Bastard," he muttered to himself in French as his cousin donned yet another glamour. It was only by dint of his long association with his family that he could predict where Bertrand would go, and the tracing charm he'd put on Bertrand's owl helped immeasurably as well. It wasn't his _public_ owl, oh no, this was his little mangy secret owl, the tawny one that he treated so piss poorly it was a wonder the poor bird didn't take itself off one cold night. Lucius knew that secretly Bertrand was insanely jealous of Thérèse's nightjar, but the old witch hadn't told any of them how she had magicked that bird. _That_ was a truly untraceable means of communication…the bird was so perfectly camouflaged both physically and magically that you never knew it was there until it wanted you to know.

He was shaken from his thoughts by his cousin's entrance into a Muggle post office. How quaint. Apparently Bertrand was quite the letter writer, and Lucius had absconded and copied several of his communications. He danced around the true topic of interest, genetics, but clearly Bertrand was playing in deep waters. He had frustratingly not provided anything in the way of conclusive evidence yet that would allow Lucius to go home, so here he sat. Lucius felt his features shifting, and quickly drank more Polyjuice. He had become more familiar with Muggle communication methods than he would have ever wished, and he cursed his cousin mentally again. If he ever had a chance to lay wand into him, he had quite an impressive spells list at the ready.

Bertrand was concluding his business in the post office and Lucius followed him as he apparated back to his home, irrespective of the fact that Bertrand was inside it and Lucius was outside in the pouring rain. There had been a reason that Lucius was _always_ successful at finding individuals when sent after them by the Dark Lord. He had perfected a particularly insidious piece of dark magic, the so-called Black Cat Jinx. He was able to find whoever he was looking for within a reasonable range as long as he managed to cast the curse on them, but the price was the intent of the caster. If you were truly seeking to do harm, it would backfire on the caster, causing all sorts of gruesome fatalities. And Lucius was never actively seeking _harm_, merely _information, _or _company_. Thus, he never had any problem with it. Even when he was irritated, he maintained iron control over his emotional responses. Emotional responses got you killed under the Dark Lord's service, quite often under his wand.

Lucius waited patiently to see if his cousin would visit any other interesting wizards in the vicinity. He knew Dolohov was around—it had caused him to become extremely vigilant about changing between Polyjuice and glamours. Antonin had a habit of sniffing out magical disguises, and as much as Lucius abhorred Polyjuice, it was something he knew Antonin could not pick up. After about an hour, Bertrand disapparated again, and Lucius dutifully followed. When he saw that Bertrand was visiting his mistress, he disapparated himself to Château Plein de Morgue. He knew that his cousin was a randy bastard and would be there all night.

"Plinth! Firewhisky. And keep the knocker off the door," Lucius ordered, aware that he looked a fright with the Polyjuice. It was irrelevant to house elves, however, as they could perceive magical auras.

"Yes, master! Right away!"

Lucius was on his second glass when he felt his features contorting back to their normal shape. He sighed. It was pleasant to be in familiar surroundings, but he was no closer to being able to return home. Bertrand was investigating Hermione's genetics research, and possibly had been the wizard Harry had seen. However, given Bertrand's extreme paranoia about disguises at the moment, Lucius had to wonder if Bertrand was as intricately intertwined in events as Kingsley and Harry seemed to think he was.

He raised an invisible glass to his cousin. "Whether it be Malfoy or Malfaille, it is a name feared at the Ministry of Magic." It mattered a great deal at the moment that it happened to be the sort of fear they wanted to _avoid_, but Lucius was pureblooded enough to salute his ancestors for establishing the reign of House Malfoy so thoroughly on both sides of the Channel. His musing was interrupted by a snort from the fireplace. Damn it, he had blocked that Floo! Unless…Lucius groaned as he heard Thérèse's roughened voice.

"Lucius, I know you're there. Harriet saw you skulking in the rain at Bertrand's, and of course being the sweet bird she is, she told me at once. Come over here and talk to me this instant, you naughty boy!"

He was too old to pound his head on the desk, but at times like these he could hardly wait for the old bat to die. No one in the family dared to block their Floos to her, as she would ruthlessly punish whoever did so. He still didn't know how she had managed to get his cousin Gerard posted to the high desert of Chile for the French Foreign Office, but she had managed it. Dreadful. Steeling himself for being raked over the coals, he stepped over to the fireplace and threw in some Floo powder, then thrust his head in. "Aunt Thérèse, this is hardly a good time for a social call. I am here on business."

Thérèse harrumphed and one eyebrow raised. "I already know that too. But that hardly excuses your deplorable silence for the past few months. I have hardly heard from you since you married that…creature and got her pregnant. No, I will not excuse poor manners. I will expect you tomorrow morning for breakfast at seven sharp."

Her tone was as cutting as one of his own slicing hexes, and Lucius mentally cursed her. While it was unlikely that Bertrand would be up and about before nine, there was still the faint possibility that his cousin would give him the slip. The Black Cat jinx was effective, but one had to be _present_ for it to work.

"I trust whatever you have to say is of an _important_ nature, and not something trivial, Madame. I assure you, I shall be deeply displeased for anything less than the family honor at stake," Lucius replied stiffly, aware, as his aunt was, that he would be there regardless of her reasons.

"As if I will discuss such things with you in this fetid manner. And bring me an apology gift. You really have sunk quite low, Lucius." With that, the witch rang off, and Lucius withdrew his head from the fireplace, jaw clenched. _Fucking fantastic_.

* * *

"Ginny, thank you for inviting me over," Kingsley said, giving the pregnant witch a kiss on the cheek before he shrugged off his overcoat and entered their home, his Auror escorts trailing behind him.

"You two will find some dinner in the kitchen," Ginny said to the Aurors, sending Kingsley's coat to the closet and the kitchen door flicking open.

"Thank you ma'am," they offered respectfully, nodding to their co-worker Harry as they passed by. While Harry was treated much the same as any other Auror, there were still perks and prices to be paid for being Harry Potter, the boy who defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. When the Minister of Magic dropped by for dinner on a fairly frequent basis, he would never be just another Auror.

"Thank you for coming, Kingsley," Harry said, shaking his friend's hand. Although their roles were kind of reversed from the Order days, Harry respected Kingsley's handling of many difficult situations since the war, and it was only when extremely important things came up that Harry pulled his status out and used it. This was one of those times.

"Perhaps a drink before dinner?" Harry asked, gesturing to his private library. "Ginny is going to put the boys to bed before we eat."

Kingsley accepted a glass of absinthe, aware that the green fairy which lit the sugar cube was an heirloom magical ornament in the Potter family. It had been one of the possessions Harry had discovered when he finally got around to digging through his vault at Gringotts. "I have always thought that the green fairy was a bit more of a tart," Kingsley said, gesturing to the silver fairy's demure, empire waist gown.

"Well, there is the drink itself," Harry observed, taking a sip from his own glass.

Kingsley chuckled in his deep baritone. "True."

It was now or never. Harry opened his mouth and began. "Kingsley, I understand that the Ministry, and you in particular, are in a messy situation with all of the genetics testing and the Marriage Law. It hasn't been around long enough to be proven a success, but at the same time, it has been in place long enough for people to feel the uncomfortable effects of some of the less than optimal marriages. Add in the consequences for wizards like Yaxley who want to avoid it, and all of the attacks and Muggle disappearances, and I know you have a lot on your plate. But, and you know what I'm going to say—"

"Harry, I cannot tell you about the Ministry's arrangement with Lucius Malfoy. I told Hermione no already, and my answer is the same for you." Kingsley was obviously expecting Harry would not stop there, sighing as Harry's eyes took on the determined gleam that Hermione would have recognized.

"Kingsley, I have played by the rules and kept my head down since the war ended. I willingly sacrificed myself for the wizarding world, and I would do it again if I had to. The difference was, I knew what was being asked of me, and I gave it 110%. I want you to think, how can you expect the same of Hermione, when you won't even make it clear to her exactly what you are asking her to do? Because whatever else you may say about her marriage to Lucius, it's anything but platonic or a marriage of convenience—so whatever you've asked of Lucius, you have now also asked of Hermione."

Kingsley set aside his drink and leaned forward, giving Harry a frank look. "Harry, you've made it clear you have no taste for politics. I have been traveling to practically every country that is requesting Hermione's test, dealing with the Muggle Prime Minister regarding the disappearances, and now I have to confront this media blitz by these "Watchers" whose intent is far more nefarious than they present, all while trying to protect the Squibs and keep the Pureblood/Muggleborn situation from exploding again. I am not willing to compromise the integrity of years of work by this Ministry to satisfy one witch's curiosity, irrespective of who she is or what she is doing for us. It is for the greater good, Harry—and I remember a time when that was enough for both of you."

"Dinner!" Ginny called in, and Harry and Kingsley both rose. Before they went into the dining room, Harry stopped Kingsley with a hand on his arm.

"Kingsley, you're entitled to make whatever decisions you see fit, and I respect that. But if this costs the life of the brightest witch of this age, who also happens to be my best friend, I will never forgive you."

Kingsley's eyes were intent as he clasped Harry's hand in his own. "Believe me, Harry, I would never forgive myself."

* * *

The late afternoon light bathed Hermione in a golden glow. She was lost in her thoughts, her eyes fixed on the formal gardens outside the library window, but her mind was a million miles away.

"Are you okay, Hermione?"

Astoria's soft voice interrupted Hermione's thoughts. Lucius had been gone for three days and Draco had returned home from St. Mungo's after a hostile crowd had tried to storm the lobby in a perverted demand for "justice from those Death Eaters!" Essentially all three were now hostages in the Manor, a mix of Unspeakables and Aurors assigned to it despite the fact that the wards were among the strongest of pureblood families.

Hermione did not even turn her head to answer. "Yes, I'm fine. Just thinking about some things, that's all."

Astoria hesitated in the doorway. She was worried about Hermione, despite Draco's assurance this morning to the contrary.

_" She's been through a bloody war, Astoria! She has seen a lot worse than this. Granger will be just fine." _

Looking at Hermione now, Astoria disagreed. She knew the difference between Draco's occasional broodiness and what seemed to be a form of depression. She tried something that was usually successful in rousing Draco when he was melancholic. "Would you read Scorpius his bedtime story? He's been a bit of a handful today."

A small smile pierced Hermione's mouth, and she finally turned to look at Astoria. "Of course. I'll be right up."

"Thank you," Astoria said with a genuine smile. Hopefully her little man could cheer up Hermione…and Lucius would return soon.

After Hermione had entertained Scorpius thoroughly by making his stuffed animals act out parts of his bedtime story, she left him to the hugs and cuddles of Draco and Astoria and wandered back to her own wing. They would assume she had gone to bed, but Hermione was actually forming a desperate resolution. She needed verification of her ideas, and she really needed another viewpoint about her theory for the Squib gene and how it was regulated.

Hermione snapped her case shut, shrunk it, and put it in her pocket. There was only one person who could give her the answers she sought, and she had no intention of not getting them. If she went through the traditional channels, a whole team of Aurors and Unspeakables would accompany her, and someone would find out. There were too many leaks. Without knowing where Lucius was and what he was about, it was driving Hermione mad to just sit and wait.

Snapping her fingers, Hermione summoned Smidgen. The house elf bowed deeply and looked up with her wide, grey eyes. Although it made her feel guilty to see the trust in the diminutive elf's countenance, it was too late for second thoughts.

"Smidgen, I am going to have a holiday at home. I am going to read and study, and I don't want any visitors or interruptions for the next three days. I want all of my meals brought to this table here," Hermione patted the surface of the lovely antique, "And I don't want you to worry if I'm in the bathroom. I promise to take my potions every morning as normal. That will be all."

"Yes, mistress, Smidgen will do exactly as you say," her elf bowed again and winked out of the room.

"_Colloportus maximus intentus_," Hermione said, pointing her wand at her bedroom door. Then, withdrawing the curtain tassel she had turned into a portkey, Hermione disappeared from the room.

* * *

Lucius arrived ten minutes early for breakfast, treating Thérèse's elf with utter disdain when the creature attempted to suggest he should wait in the lobby instead of the breakfast parlor. He swept past the thing impatiently, and found his aunt perusing her morning post.

"Lucius, you are early. How unbearably crass of you," she said as she held her papery cheek up for his kiss. "Since I am sure you are here to offer your abject apology for the rude manner in which you have ignored me, I presume your precipitous arrival heralds an equally perspicacious gift."

"How well you know me," Lucius murmured, and withdrew a parcel from his cloak before tossing it at the unfortunate house elf, who staggered beneath the weight. He was impeccably attired in a closely tailored navy suit with matching embroidered robes. He watched Thérèse open the inlaid box, withdrawing a set of jeweled insects. She fixed her beady eyes on him and quirked a brow.

"I certainly hope you have an explanation for this," she began, but Lucius flicked his wand and the insects came to life, scurrying into hiding spots in her robes which caused his aunt to emit a shriek of disapproval.

"_Finite incantatum_," he said, and they returned to the box. Thérèse was now quivering with anger, but Lucius forestalled her with his hand.

"They are eavesdropping bugs, Madame. You leave them at a home and they will hide themselves in the most interesting nooks and crannies, relaying all they hear. They will fly home when you end the spell."

At this Thérèse was mollified, her greedy hand stroking the box. "Well, despite the unorthodox manner in which you chose to display them, I think that is a very useful gift! Now, you naughty wizard, tell me why I shouldn't throw you out for trying to murder me with a heart attack. And you'd best make it an involved and compelling tale, young man, else I shall be forced to reconsider my asset allocation under your management."

"Yes, yes, we both know you don't intend to deal with anything so tedious as _money_, Thérèse. Now, can you tell me what was so bloody urgent that you summoned me here? And don't tell me your cook has come up with a new breakfast brioche which I must try, or that the local apothecary is giving you fits again about your potions. As you once told me, brevity is the discretion of a family." Lucius knew it was a gamble to take such an open tack with her, but she was quite pleased with his little trinket and the time to press that advantage was immediately.

"I am very unhappy with you and Bertrand, Lucius. This sort of discord is not good for the family as a whole. I want you to patch it all up, now."

Lucius stared at her. She was serious. Godric's Hollow, was the old bat finally losing her mind?

"I beg pardon, Madame, but the affairs in which Bertrand and I find ourselves ensconced are most assuredly at odds, and I do not think such matters will be as easily resolved as you seem to think," Lucius said stiffly, wishing he had a stiff drink instead of having to deal with Thérèse at this hour of the day.

"Ah, about that Lucius…" she was interrupted as the door opened and her house elf came in, and right on his heels came Bertrand, sporting a new, shorter haircut for his dark hair. Lucius leapt up from his chair, his wand in his hand as his cousin drew his own wand and they eyed each other warily.

"Sit down, both of you! And shut up!" Thérèse drew her own wand quickly as the first hex flew.


	27. Family Trouble

**Two chapters in two days! Well I didn't expect that. Remember when I said things were getting rocky? Hmmm, yes-more of that ahead here, I'm afraid! And probably not what you think either! I'm so mean to you...read and let me know what you think! And to the anonymous reviewer: the "yay" was a bit of both, actually-as I suspect most family visits are! Thank you all for reading, and for reviewing!**

* * *

"Damn it!" Thorfinn Rowle kicked the body of the dead Muggle once again for good measure.

"For Circe's sake, calm down," Antonin Dolohov said coldly, levitating the corpse away from the irate wizard.

"Weaklings! Can't even tolerate a little _Cruciatus_!" Thorfinn raged. The big, blonde wizard was temperamental, which was why Antonin had been reluctant to break him out of Azkaban. His violent reaction to the Muggles' inability to duplicate Hermione Granger's work was proof that he needed to do something other than harangue their researchers, assuming Cornelia could retrieve more. He would not send Thorfinn on such a task again.

"I will get Mullan working on it. He's still under my Imperius, and the idiot Aurors they've planted haven't known him long enough to recognize the difference," Antonin said.

"I still do not understand why we cannot do the research at a faster pace!"

Antonin explained it again. "The expression of these genes, as the Muggles call them, relies on normal cellular division. When we interfere with that, we disrupt the normal processes which in turn disrupts the results. There is no magical means of speeding up the work."

"Then we should at least be able to improve the pace of the analysis methods," Thorfinn snarled, and Antonin felt it best to offer him a distraction.

"I think you should focus on getting Granger. She is the only witch adequately trained in the work, and bright enough to draw the appropriate conclusions. These Muggles are working blind, because they do not understand magic, and their feeble brains do not wish to understand it. Between that task and the need to obtain the rest of the data we need from the Muggles, I should think you have enough to do without harassing more Muggles to death here. In fact, I'm sure you can plan an adequate strategy for breaking into the FSS headquarters to retrieve that data within the week."

Thorfinn smiled cruelly at this. "Yes, you are right, Antonin. And it sounds like a lovely excursion for my fiancée. I'll have it by Friday."

Dolohov nodded. "Excellent."

After the blonde wizard left the lab, Antonin turned his wand to the other student, who was petrified by fear and not a curse after Thorfinn's raging. "Now, you! What was the name of that American researcher?"

* * *

"Excuse me, Dr. Hayes?" Hermione's knock on the half open office door was firm but polite, and she stuck her head around to see the professor seated at her desk, working at her computer. "Do you have a minute?"

"Of course. Come in." The slight blond woman leaned back in her chair, and Hermione noticed that she was pregnant as well. Making a split second decision, she dismissed the glamour that was hiding her own pregnancy. Common ground might help things go faster, and she needed to be out of here before the Aurors assigned to Dr. Hayes realized she was here. She probably assumed she was a student from her casual attire.

Casting a Muffliato charm on the office, she entered and nearly closed it, then turned and pulled the visitor's chair to nearly the side of the desk, so she would have a view of the door. Casting an apologetic glance at Dr. Hayes, she said, "Sorry. I don't like not being able to see the door."

"It's fine," Dr. Hayes said. "Now, I've seen you before, but I can't quite place where…"

"I met you at several research conferences. I work for a private think tank in Great Britain, and I had discussed some of my genetics work with you," Hermione said. "Sophia Valmont."

Dr. Hayes' blue eyes were bright with curiosity. "I remember you now. You were working on something to do with the genetic regulation of an entire gene family, am I right? Something that involved chromatin remodeling, if I remember correctly."

Hermione smiled. "Yes, that is it. I had hoped to talk to you at the conference, but then there was that horrific attack and it wasn't possible."

Dr. Hayes frowned. "Yes, I heard about that. I wasn't able to attend—my partner would not permit it. We've been trying so long for this baby, you see, and I'm afraid she's a touch overprotective about traveling under the circumstances."

The woman's hand inadvertently caressed her belly, and she looked at Hermione's own bump. "I imagine you know what I mean."

"Yes, I do. But Dr. Hayes—"

"Call me Frederica, please, and I will call you Sophia. Do you have a business card?"

"Of course." Hermione slid the card across the desk, and a slight furrow appeared on Frederica's brow. "Praecantatio, Inc. That's odd. I had another member of your company visit me last week…I can't remember his name, though. Where did I put his card?"

Hermione's heart rate sped up. "What did he look like?"

Frederica looked up from her rummaging in her desk. "Oh, tall, long blonde hair, what was his name…"

"Hamilton?" Hermione asked, and the professor smiled.

"Yes, that was him. Chemometrics, wasn't it?"

Hermione took a deep breath and shoved aside the questions that popped up at knowing Lucius had been here without her. "Yes. He was probably asking about my work with chromatin remodeling being induced by the recessive expression of a gene that regulates a whole gene family. I've shown that this particular recessive gene acts as a regulator—it causes a remodeling of the chromatin that renders the genes silent."

"Yes, I remember now. He was modeling the behavior with the Gillespie algorithm—quite clever, to apply it across a whole gene family like that! But if I understand you correctly, this is something that happens during in utero development. That would render the Gillespie algorithm useless, because it is only used for…"

Hermione interrupted her, "For instantaneous reactions. Yes, we know. However, it is applicable in this case, with a few modifications." Hermione did not bother to mention that the modifications were Arithmantic in nature, and ignored the professor's expression of curiosity.

"But that is fantastic! You are going to publish that, aren't you? Because that would rocket your think tank to the forefront of research, and secure you innumerable grants…"

Hermione's head was spinning. She knew Lucius was quite knowledgeable about genetics, but he was demonstrating more depth and facility than an untrained, even if intelligent, wizard should possess. Putting that aside, Hermione cut Frederica off again. "Yes, I'm sure we will eventually. But the reason I needed to speak with you was to do with your experiments reversing epigenetic regulation. I understand you have had some recent success with your rats and the expression of pancreatic islet cells."

Frederica frowned. "That has not been published yet, how do you know about that?"

Hermione improvised. There was no need for the professor to know she had been poking around in her lab in the wee hours of the morning, wards notwithstanding. The computers had been a bit trickier, but not insurmountable. "Your students were a bit too gregarious, perhaps, after hours at the conference."

This was plausible enough that the professor relaxed again, and she began to speak. "Yes, we have found a couple of likely culprits for mRNA and protein expression products that are likely to have an impact on the remodeling. However, the results are inconclusive and highly preliminary. It will be years until we can narrow in on the right signals, and even then—"

"Oh, sorry Frederica, I didn't know you had a guest," a thin young man said from the door. Hermione did not miss the way his hand wandered toward his forearm, a gesture he disguised as an idle scratch but which she knew was a check of wand placement. The American Aurors were well placed in her lab, then.

"That's all right, Arnold. Dr. Valmont was just here for a business consultation."

The wizard's mien was suspicious. "How did you get past building security? They're supposed to buzz the lab and the office if we have guests."

Frederica waved her hand impatiently. "Arnold, that is more of a pain in the ass than any other new 'security regulations' they've imposed recently."

"As it happens, I did a post-doc with Sameer Chandraprekhar, and I was visiting him. The chance to chat with Dr. Hayes was too good to pass up." Hermione's backstory was well researched, but she could tell the wizard didn't like her.

"Oh, did you? Tell me, was he always so obsessed with Thai food, or is that a recent acquisition after his time in Singapore?" Frederica was obviously relaxed, and the wizard had no choice but to retreat as she ignored him.

"No, he's always been one for very spicy dishes. I'm sure the Thai curries suit his taste!" Hermione replied, aware that her time was running short. That wizard would seek reinforcements, and she still needed one more piece of information from Dr. Hayes. "Frederica, I'm sure your work is advanced enough to have isolated at least one signaling pathway. I really need to know what that is in order to make forward progress on my own work. I will sign a NDA, whatever is necessary to get you to share that—"

Hermione was interrupted by a loud bang and crash, a thunderous roar reaching their ears seconds before a shockwave knocked them both from their chairs.

"Was that a bomb?" Frederica asked in shock, coughing, as Hermione crawled to the door and peeked through the opening, past the scraps of drywall and twisted metal studs. Wizards in black robes were dueling in the hall with the American Aurors, a team of which was trying to make its way to Frederica's office door.

"Get back!" Hermione cried, whipping her own wand from her hair and thrusting the professor to the ground as a jet of red light flew past, missing her cheek by inches. Hermione threw her own hex back, catching a brief glimpse of Arnold's angry face as he tried to work over to them through the rubble of the hall. She saw one of the attacking wizards cut down one of the Americans ruthlessly, and as he turned he whipped the hood of his cloak off, meeting her eyes and instantly throwing a powerful _Reducto _at the office door.

"Protego!" Hermione cried, her shield shuddering as the door was shredded around herself and the professor by Antonin Dolohov's curse.

"What are you?" Frederica asked, trying to get beneath the desk. Dolohov was now striding down the hall, casting hex after hex which Hermione parried. She threw the jinx Lucius had just taught her, which made the wizard angry. He whipped his wand and the spell flew past her, hitting Frederica squarely.

"No!" Hermione cried, whipping her head around toward Dolohov as he carelessly flicked a disemboweling curse at Arnold and turned his wand back toward the pair of them.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said to the professor, whose face was contorting with pain. Hermione pulled her port key and activated it, casting a strong _Lumos_ to Dolohov's angry roar before they both vanished from the office with a dizzying twist.

* * *

"TWIGS!" Hermione cried as they appeared in the foyer of the Manor. The house elf popped into view, taking in the Muggle writhing in pain and the new mistress' wand waving.

"I will get Master Draco," Twigs said and winked out, coming back instantly with Draco. He took it in with one glance, his own wand whipping out as he cast diagnostic spells and a broad healing spell on the woman.

"Who the hell is she?" he asked, his brow furrowed. "Muggle! Work?"

Hermione nodded, tears streaming down her face. "I had to consult with her…she's pregnant…"

Astoria popped in and paled at the sight in front of her. Blood was beginning to ooze from the woman's skin, and Draco cursed. "Fuck. I have to get her to Mungo's, now! This needs more advanced curse breaking, and I can just barely keep her stabilized! Tori, get her to the Floo!"

Astoria levitated Dr. Hayes and Hermione walked with her and Draco to the Floo as Draco alternated between instructions and questions.

"Keep doing that healing charm, Granger! Where the fuck were you? You were supposed to be in your room! Who the hell is she? Stop, I need to beat this back—" Draco paused, his wand waving messily as he pushed back the dark tendrils of magic that were trying to spread from Dr. Hayes' abdomen toward her heart. "Shit, let's go!"

Tori threw a large handful of Floo powder into the enormous fireplace and cried, "St. Mungo's emergency ward!" and the four of them disappeared into the green flames.

Their arrival caused an explosion of action, Healers running forward and responding to Draco's barked instructions, a team of six taking over the levitation of Dr. Hayes' body and moving off into a room. Hermione was in shock, dimly hearing Astoria speaking to someone, then the pops of apparition.

"Hey, hey now Hermione. It's okay." Hermione looked up, recognizing Ron's warm voice.

"It's all my fault," Hermione sobbed, letting her friend hold her. Ron's partner, Severt, backed off respectfully, and after a good few minutes of a crying jag Hermione began to feel more coherent.

"Ok, we can chat here," Ron said, leading Hermione into a small office as Severt warded the door, his face imperturbable. "Tell me what happened, 'Mione. You were at home at the Manor the last we knew."

"I had to speak to a Muggle researcher, and with Lucius off on some sort of business, plus the crazy stuff in the paper, I decided to go myself to speak to her," Hermione said, looking Ron square in the eye. "I know I was supposed to go through official channels, but all that has done lately was to get more people suspended or hurt."

"So this Muggle, she must be pretty important in Muggle research circles then?" Ron prodded, and Hermione nodded.

"She's one of the top experts on epigenetic regulation. I'm close to understanding how the so-called Squib gene works, and she is the only person left who could possibly help me figure it out."

"Right, which is why we have the American Aurors crawling up our asses now," Ron said with a glance to his partner. "Harry has the unmitigated joy to deal with that, right, but I have to give them a reason why you didn't take an escort with you. Why, Hermione?"

"Ron, we both know there are leaks springing up all over the Ministry. How did Antonin Dolohov know who to go after? It wasn't for me. He was surprised to see me there—I could see it in his eyes. I was like an added bonus," she said bitterly. "Tell me how the American Aurors fared, Ron. I want to know the truth."

"There is no word on their condition yet," Severt spoke quietly, almost as if his voice was rusty from disuse, but it caused Hermione to be quiet in turn, which Ron was grateful for.

"Okay, Hermione, I understand that, but with you being on suspension I doubt Kingsley will be happy about you portkeying to America to chat with her. And the fact that she is now hurt and we are breaking all sorts of Statute of Secrecy rules doesn't help. I'm going to talk with Harry and see if we can't run some interference with Kingsley. I know you can't let things go, and most of us know the Prophet printed a load of rubbish—but you haven't made things any easier, you know."

"Don't lecture me, Ronald Weasley," Hermione retorted fiercely. "You have no idea how difficult Kingsley has made things for _me_. I have a job to do and a problem to fix, and not you, nor Kingsley, nor any other bloody dark wizard is going to stop me!" Hermione poked her finger into Ron's chest with each point, and Ron rubbed the spot after she was finished.

"Merlin, Hermione, that's enough. I get your point. I know you're mad and it's damned annoying to be suspended for a mistake you didn't make, but that doesn't give you a reason to be mad at _me_." Ron was so damn reasonable that Hermione had to admit he was right.

"You're right, I'm sorry," Hermione said, then her face crumpled with tears again. "It's just horrible. She was pregnant, just like me…I don't know if they will be able to save the baby…"

"Oi, it will be all right, Hermione," Ron said, sitting down beside the distraught witch and looking to Severt for help.

"Where is her bloody bastard husband anyway?" Severt muttered, taking in Ron's shrug with a roll of his eyes. "Fine. I'll get Astoria Malfoy. You've got to deal with Underwood and Potter."

* * *

It was late when Astoria managed to drag Hermione home to the Manor. Draco had promised her that he would be home immediately following, and Astoria was relieved when Draco apparated directly into the so-called Grand Salon. Astoria had kept Hermione out of Lucius' study and the library, predicting that those surroundings would make her think far too much about Lucius and what he could possibly be doing.

"I need to go up to Scorpius," Astoria said, giving Hermione a quick kiss on the cheek. "I know he's probably had a grand time with Firkin, but I need to see him before he goes to bed."

She left the room quietly as Smidgen prepared a cup of chamomile tea just the way Hermione liked it, and hovered anxiously until Hermione took a sip purely to please the house elf.

"There, mistress, good as new. Eat, eat!"

Hermione dutifully picked up a digestive biscuit, which was sufficient for the elf to wink away. She immediately put down the cup and biscuit and fixed Draco with a stare. He had been studying her, his arms crossed across his chest.

"You're tired," Hermione observed, and in a rare moment of complete candor Draco agreed with her.

"You're right, I am. But I can't get to bed until we've talked about a few things, Granger."

"Are you _always_ going to call me Granger?" Hermione asked, successfully injecting a little levity into what was going to be a depressing conversation.

"Probably, yes," Draco said, a wry expression on his face. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. "I'm just going to cut to the chase here. I'm not my father, and Godric only knows how many blood vessels he will burst when he finds out about this, but I need a wizard's oath from you that you won't leave the Manor like that again, Hermione. Believe me, I understand better than anyone how much it grates to have the Ministry wheels grinding slowly through all of your business and accusing you of a host of things you haven't done, but you have to sit on your hands and wait it out."

Hermione felt the weight behind his grey gaze, and it defused her instinctive bristling. She looked away from him, her jaw set. "I think we both know I can't do that."

Draco dropped into the chair opposite her and folded his hands between his spread knees. "Say what you will about our paternalistic, misogynistic society, Granger, but the fact remains that you are a part of it, and as a member of this family now, a very heavily scrutinized part. Add in what you brought in fame and glory from your activities against Lord Voldemort, and you have the makings of either an epic or a tsunami of disaster. At this point, I'm not quite sure which it is! I'm just trying to get you to acknowledge that, just a little. It's very Gryffindor to want to rush in and fix it all, but maybe for once you need to let other people take the lead a bit and think about your own connections for a change."

"I know I can't fix it all, Draco," Hermione said, her eyes fixed on the tea cup she was again nervously fiddling with until she swiveled her head to meet and hold his gaze. "But I should at least be allowed to fix _something_."

"And what about that child in your womb? Does it not count? What about my father? Your parents are gone, Granger, and they were never a part of this world. You worked very hard to keep them safe from it, but they never understood it. Now, I ask you, _what are you willing to sacrifice_ to protect it? Your identity as a Know It All? Your status as the brain who just won't quit? When will it be enough?"

"That was a low blow," Hermione said quietly, ignoring the way her eyes watered and how Draco pointedly watched the very visible kicks from the baby.

"Was it? Or are you ready to admit you cannot be all things to all people?" Draco stood. "The oath, Granger. If you were really a Malfoy, you'd do this. Because even through hell, at least Malfoys know how to stick together first and foremost."

Hermione stood up and wrapped one arm around her belly. "I don't have to choose between keeping my family safe and doing my job. Besides, if I stop doing it, who will?"

"Hasn't it occurred to you that that shouldn't matter as much as this?" Draco asked, touching her belly briefly, his signet ring glinting in the firelight before he withdrew his hand and turned his head away. "Never mind. I will summon Father home. I don't know why I thought I could make you understand."

"I DO understand! I understand that I can't be all things to all people! But people are dying, Draco! Tell me that that Muggle, Frederica Hayes, didn't lose her baby today because of ME, because of MY WORK. Tell me that it didn't happen!" She was shouting now, but it felt good, a release of some frustration and anger and sadness that had been roiling in her gut like some sick ball all day.

Draco's jaw clenched and he looked really angry, like he had back in school. "Fuck you, Granger. Hasn't it occurred to you that if not for YOU, that damn Muggle wouldn't even be alive? She would have been killed or kidnapped by Dolohov, in which case she would have been tortured to insanity and lost her damn baby anyway! YOU SAVED HER LIFE, Hermione! Get over your pity party and put on your big girl pants, and start acting like a damn adult, not some spoiled teenager! I don't know what the hell is going on between you and my father, but I do know that he couldn't stand to lose another wife he cares about! So get out your wand and take the goddamn oath! Now!"

Hermione just crumpled in front of him, loud, wrenching sobs being pulled from her. Draco crouched down and patted her awkwardly. "I'll summon him. I don't know what he's doing, but you need him."

"No," Hermione gasped out. "No. I won't be that weak. I trust him. I trust him, Draco!" She looked up at her childhood nemesis, her eyes widening. "When did that happen?" Large tears overran the banks of her eyelashes again, and she dropped her head, shaking it.

"Jesus, Granger, you're pathetic. You're not the first woman to fall in love with her husband." Draco had enough trouble dealing with Astoria when she was hormonal—he did not need to deal with a hormonal Granger! He thought yet again that the dungeon torture chambers would be too good for his father when that bastard got back home.

"Shut your mouth, you ferret," Hermione retorted. "Just because I trust Lucius a scant margin more than _you_ does not mean I'm in love with him!"

"Uh-huh. Are you going to take the oath, or am I calling in Potter? Because as much joy as it gives me to uproot my family from their home, deal with death threats, _again_, in my workplace, and agree to take on the nominal headship of the family while Daddy Dearest is off playing flunky for the Ministry, I'm done trying to babysit the biggest pain in the arse to come out of Hogwarts in the past fifty years!"

"Fine." Hermione drew out her wand and grabbed Draco's hand, then said, "I swear not to leave this house for Ministry business reasons as long as Lucius is away. Satisfied?"

Draco watched the thin blue line snake around his wrist. "Yes." As soon as the line disappeared into their wrists, he dropped her hand and cast a quick _Tempus_ on the wall. "For all our sakes, I hope the fuck my father returns soon. I don't know how he deals with you."

Draco cast a quick diagnostic over her, much to Hermione's annoyance. "Well, at least the baby is healthy. Eat some damn dinner, Granger. I don't need to deal with you at work and at home."

"Same to you, you annoying prat!" Hermione shouted after him. "Bastards, the lot of them," she mumbled under her breath, then started crying again as he swept out of the room without another word. She really missed Lucius.


	28. Trust Me

**Hello again! I've lost track of days, has it been 3-4 days? I think maybe so. KEZZ, thanks for your persistent kudos! And thank you RevQ for the wonderful review! I appreciate the props for a good Lumione work. Welcome aboard all new followers and Favorites!**

**THBS, I hope it's just the time of year or something, but two reviews for two new chapters does not a happy author make! Seriously, over 200 people (maybe closer to 300, hard to tell from viewer counts) are reading this fic. I am ****_craving_**** feedback-those reviews are so great to receive, and it really inspires me to persevere and rework when stuff doesn't come out right, to tweak and scribble and edit as fast as I can. I know that we all have real lives and other things to do, but just a single sentence of "loved it!" or "didn't see that coming" or SOMETHING is just so very, very appreciated. If only 10% of you readers hit the review button and did that, wow it would make my day!**

**Ok, things are moving along. If you were waiting to find out what happened to Lucius, here you go. The end draws nigh, folks. Probably not for another five or six chapters, but I can see it coming now. As always, I own nothing except my plot & original characters, the rest belongs to the talented JKR. Please let me know what you think!**

* * *

Thérèse's face was a mask of annoyance as her nephews slung curses around her parlor, her only action thus far a flick of her wand to cast a shield charm around herself. "Men!" she harrumphed to herself, waiting for the right moment.

At last, she saw that Bertrand was close to the head of the table, while Lucius was moving just past a row of armless side chairs along the oval table.

"_Piertotum locomotor incarcerare_!" The chairs leapt to life, grabbing both nephews. "_Expelliarmus!_"

Thérèse's wand was lightening fast, and she was holding both of her nephews' wands in her left hand, her look one of disgust before it faded to an expression of innocent fatigue. She dropped the wands with a clatter onto her table, then drooped fashionably into the closest chair, placing her hand across her eyes. "Iribe!"

Her house elf popped into view, his eyes wide as he took in the two wizards struggling ineffectively in the chairs. "Yes, Madame?"

"I require my special coffee immediately. My nephews have displeased me greatly."

"At once, Madame!" the house elf assured her, winking out of view as Thérèse peeked through her fingers at her nephews. They had wisely ceased struggling against the chairs, which tightened at every motion, and were now glaring at each other hostilely. Bertrand saw her peeking and opened his mouth to speak, but Thérèse flicked her wand and cast a silent _Silencio _at him, and nothing came out. Lucius wisely shut his mouth after seeing that, and Thérèse resumed her dramatic swoon until Iribe popped back in with her Turkish coffee and an immaculately baked fresh cheese brioche. She watched Iribe pour the coffee several times to cool it off, and then sat up, abruptly business-like, and took a sip, the elf anxiously waiting.

"That will do," was her only comment, and the elf winked out again, leaving Thérèse to enjoy her breakfast in peace. The French doors to the patio were opened with a flick of her hand, and the sound of the birds outside was soothing. Harriet flew in and perched on the silver coffeepot, an odd, churring trill coming from its mouth. Thérèse sighed with annoyance, then flicked her wand toward both nephews, releasing them from their chairs and also undoing the silencing charm on Bertrand.

"Now, don't say a word. Sit nicely like good boys, as you don't have much time now."

Bertrand's expression was nearly malevolent, but since Thérèse had diddled the boy on her knee as a baby she was hardly afraid of him. Lucius was tight-lipped but under better regulation, but he did have the gall to ask, "Wand?"

"Not just yet, Lucius. I'm highly displeased with both of you, squabbling in my breakfast parlor like children! And after you've both been dancing around each other for weeks! I had thought you both more intelligent. Bertrand, Lucius, you are both working toward the same goal."

Both wizards looked highly skeptical, but at least they were smart enough to listen to what she had to say. Nodding her head, she continued, "You both fail to pay attention to the subtle clues, and I cannot wait to see more of this family shred itself. I am competent enough, but really, have you two learned nothing from all of the family history?"

Thérèse stood from her chair and swept toward the door. "Now, I am going to have a luncheon with Bedell at 1 pm. Perhaps, in the interim, the pair of you might get your heads out of your asses and figure out how that information might be useful to you?"

Satisfied that she had made her point, Thérèse moved her wand, sending both wands back to their rightful owners, hesistantly respectful expressions on their faces. Yes, it was good to be queen of the family circle sometimes.

Lucius and Bertrand both stood, brushing off invisible dirt and lint from their impeccable attire.

"Well, that old witch must have more than the one nightjar," Bertrand said with a huff. "I placed a tracking charm on her bird ages ago, and that—" he flicked his eyes toward the bird that was watching them with interest, "—is not it."

"One hundred and sixty and still a master," Lucius said haughtily. "I don't know if I hate her more or want to kiss her cheek."

"Both, I imagine," Bertrand observed, then turned up his nose to his cousin. Lucius returned the gesture with a haughty gaze of his own, both staring warily at each other. A house elf popped in, almost driven to its knees by the weight of an ancient stone pensieve.

"Mistress says, 'Use it!'" the house elf stammered, then disappeared again before either wizard could hex it.

"Well I'm not trusting that thing of hers," Lucius sniffed, "But if you're willing to come back to the chateau, perhaps we could put each other's recent memories to the test."

"Why should I trust your pensieve instead of mine?" Bertrand countered coolly.

"Because last night I saw you fucking your mistress into the carpet. And if that wasn't you, I suspect you damn well better see what else 'you' have been up to," Lucius replied calmly, smoothing his gloves. "Or do you want to pretend your haircut had absolutely nothing to do with belated Polyjuice prevention?"

Bertrand swore under his breath, so softly that Lucius only caught a few words, "…murder….bastard…"

"Shall we?" Lucius asked.

With a curt nod, the cousins briskly exited the house, while Thérèse watched them from an upstairs window. "They always did learn faster than their fathers," she said to herself with a single amused chuckle.

* * *

It had been three days since Frederica Hayes had been admitted to St. Mungo's. Hermione stayed home the first day, allowing Scorpius to practically destroy the salon with a massive set of magical tiddlywinks. It was amusing and distracting, both of which she sorely needed. Hermione felt she had erred in not letting Draco summon Lucius with the signet ring, but the next second she was cursing herself for being so stupid as to go to the States alone, and dreading what he would say to her when he came back.

After Draco got pissed with her during dinner when she peppered him with questions about Dr. Hayes' condition, he finally left the table before he would really hex her. Astoria was left to try to smoothe over Hermione's hurt feelings, letting the witch cry on her shoulder.

"I'm just so _guilty_…that poor woman, she had no idea what was happening, and now she's lost her baby… Do you know she told me they had been trying for so long to have one? It just makes it even worse, and when I think of how they will Obliviate her and she won't even know the real reason why…"

"Why do you do that to yourself? Not everything is your fault, Hermione. That's why Draco gets so annoyed with you—he calls it your martyr complex." Astoria had not been in Slytherin for nothing—this was a very manipulative move to hopefully push Hermione away from her self-pity and into anger.

"That ferret! Apologies, Astoria—but your husband can be such a—such a git!" Hermione said, her head snapping up fiercely.

"Kind of like your husband, hmm? I wonder where Draco learned it from," Astoria said drily and watched Hermione scowl.

"I suppose you think I should just shrug about that poor scientist, say 'oh well', and let Mungo's deal with her and the aftermath. That would be the _Slytherin_ thing to do," Hermione said just a little unkindly.

"Go and visit her then. They can't Obliviate her until she's past the curse breaking, so you could talk to her first. For all you know, she doesn't blame you at all. And there must be hazards associated with Muggle research, surely they have their own version of crazy people running around occasionally," Astoria said.

Hermione sat up, fresh determination on her face. "Yes, I should do that. It's my fault she is there, I could at least see what I could do to make it easier for her. Maybe we could get a special dispensation from the Wizengamot to help her get pregnant again. I'm sure there is something to be done."

"I'm sure you will find the right course of action—it is very _Gryffindor_ of you," Astoria said, and twisted her lips deprecatingly when Hermione got up and left for her room. Unless she missed her guess, Hermione was about to send off some important owls. She looked up at the corner and saw Draco end his disillusionment spell, a smirk on his lips as he walked slowly over to her, then leaned over her chair.

"You're über-hot when you're being sneaky," Draco said, then pulled his wife into a passionate kiss. "Mind if I put a bit more Slytherin in you?"

"Yes please," Astoria said, running her hand over his bum. Say what you will about them, but the Malfoy men were sexy beasts.

* * *

"May I come in?"

There was no response from the woman in the bed when she knocked at the doorframe. Frederica Hayes just continued staring out the window, and Hermione sighed and closed the door behind her. "I wanted to apologize to you, for dragging you into this nonsensical, messed up world."

The professor's eyes finally met Hermione's as the witch took a seat next to the bed, gently placing her wand on the bedside table beside Frederica Hayes. "That is my wand. It chose me when I was eleven years old. I was born to non-magical parents, and since leaving school I have identified the genes responsible for magical abilities. It has caused quite an uproar in our community, worldwide. I'm afraid there are those who are afraid of what that knowledge represents, and they are attacking anyone who is working with it. And you have unfortunately been caught in the crossfire."

"I'm not supposed to know about this, am I?" Frederica asked, her intelligent eyes reading Hermione easily. "So what happens next? I already know about the miscarriage, kind of hard not to notice _that_ when I woke up."

Her voice was bitter, and it just twisted Hermione's heart a little bit more. "Ordinarily you would have been transferred to a Muggle—that is, non-magical—hospital. But there are some lingering effects from the curse, and they need to keep you here for a bit to be sure they've taken care of it all. Otherwise…there could be unpleasant consequences."

Frederica gingerly tried to sit up a bit on her bed, and Hermione leaned over to help her.

"Why don't you just use magic to do that?" The bitterness was still there, but the indefatigable scientific curiosity was there, too.

"Because I don't think you're very comfortable with magic." Hermione picked up her wand and flicked it toward the window, making a rainbow appear. "It's an incredible gift."

"How do you keep it a secret?" Frederica asked. "Seems like this kind of thing would be hard to hide."

"More magic," Hermione said. "We have rules to follow, just the same as you do. Under ordinary circumstances your memory would already have been modified, but since you still need magical healing, and you have suffered a…trauma, they are going to wait until they can transfer you."

"What about my students? My partner? What happened to them?"

"I am not sure what happened to your students. I'll have to let an Auror tell you—our 'police', if you will. And I will ask if you can see your partner. I'm sure the Americans have communicated with her."

Frederica's eyes drifted toward the window. "So how often does this kind of thing happen? You know, attacking with murderous intent?"

Hermione was glad that she wasn't looking at her. "This isn't common. Don't worry, you're perfectly safe here."

"I was perfectly safe in my office too," Frederica said quietly, then her eyes drifted back to the window. "I'm tired now. And I really want to speak to Katie."

Hermione could see the glimmer of unshed tears and knew the woman was trying to hold herself together. "I'll speak to the Aurors about it immediately. I have…some pull in the Ministry."

Frederica nodded and Hermione left the woman in peace, resolving to send Harry himself to America to fetch the woman's partner if necessary. Her Auror team trailed along behind her, an unpleasant reminder of just how tenuous her situation remained.

"Merlin, Granger, can't I get away from you at work?" Draco griped as he came down the hall, waving his wand at a quill that was taking notes for him. "Please tell me you aren't here to indulge your guilt trip."

"I'm looking for Harry or Ron," Hermione said, ignoring his implied question entirely. She was not beholden to Draco just because Lucius was away. "I don't suppose you've heard from Lucius?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "As a matter of fact, I received some business correspondence from him this morning."

"And you didn't tell me?" Hermione's voice had risen, attracting the attention of several passing wizards and witches. The corridors of St. Mungo's were roomy, but not that roomy.

"Shut up. I will show it to you this evening, all right? Some of us haven't been suspended from our jobs, so if you don't mind, I need to get back to doing mine—and that includes tending your Muggle friend."

"No need to be such a git, Malfoy. Just because she's higher in Daddy's affections doesn't mean you have to berate her," Ron said in his affable manner as he walked up to them, his partner following behind. Ron grinned when Malfoy's eyes narrowed, the barb obviously hitting home.

"Weasel," Draco said coolly, then brushed past both of them on his way to Frederica's room.

"Unpleasant as always," Ron said. "Well I suppose he's good with his patients, but some snarky habits are hard to break."

"Ron, I need to get Frederica's partner here from America. If she has to stay in St. Mungo's, she should have her spouse with her."

Ron looked at her blankly. "What, 'Mione?"

"The American, Ron—the Muggle scientist. Her name is Frederica Hayes."

"Ah, right. Well, here comes Harry now. You can ask him yourself. I steer clear of all the international wizarding messes even if they involve one of my best friends. Plenty of homegrown ugliness to deal with," Ron observed.

"Usually a Malfoy involved somewhere." Hermione fixed Ron's partner with a stare, but he was unrepentant in his frankness. "Notwithstanding you of course, ma'am."

"What does he mean by that?" Hermione had just demanded of Ron as Harry walked up to them.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, noting the tenseness of Hermione's shoulders.

"I was taking exception to Mr. Severt's characterization of my husband," Hermione retorted.

"Um, the Muggle?" Ron said, and Hermione thankfully turned her brain to that topic.

"Harry, I need to ask a favor. I realize that it gives the Ministry the heebie-jeebies to allow a Muggle to go unObliviated, but it would really help Dr. Hayes if she could have her partner here for moral support. She's feeling very upset about the miscarriage and being thrust into a whole world of which she was unaware doesn't help."

Harry blew out a breath. "That's a lot to ask, Hermione. They are okay with her being here, due to the curse, but bringing in a non-hexed Muggle would probably cause a lot of shrieking in the Wizengamot."

"It would only be temporary, Harry. Both of them would be Obliviated when Dr. Hayes is discharged. And I realize that it's manipulative to ask you to do it, but I'm not exactly carrying much water around the Ministry these days, in case you hadn't noticed."

Harry raised his eyebrows at the bitterness in Hermione's tone, but he acquiesced. "Okay, Hermione, I will get it sorted, one way or another. Now, I was coming to ask you about Lucius' potions lab. Apparently there is a potion in there that would be useful for me, and obviously I can't get past the wards…" he trailed off as he took in Hermione's stunned expression.

"Excuse me, Harry, but did you just say that you've heard from my husband, and furthermore, that he said I'm supposed to help you get something out of his potions room?" Hermione asked.

"Um, yeah…I assumed you got an owl…" Harry had been married long enough to realize that he'd stepped on a very large landmine in his friend's marriage, and it was too late to rectify the damage.

"It's fine, Harry. I'm sure there are _more important_ things to be dealt with," Hermione said, and Harry threw a glance at Ron for some help.

"I say, Hermione, it's my lunch hour and I need to pick out a few baby things for Lavender. I'm complete rubbish at this sort of thing—will you help me choose something suitable?"

"What, like soothers and things like that? I think you'd best let Lavender pick that out herself, Ron," Hermione said, her voice icy.

"No, I want to buy something completely impractical…you know, the kind of thing that is a bit of a splurge but it's so cute a new mom really wants one. And I haven't the foggiest idea what that would be, I just know I want her to have it," Ron explained, and Hermione's anger melted away. She wasn't mad at _Ron_, and it was adorable how he wanted to dote on Lavender. Heaven knew there was little 'extra' in the Weasley household growing up. It was sweet that he wanted to spoil Lavender.

"Oh, that's a good idea, Ron. I should get something like that for Ginny. You know, something unexpected. She and the baby deserve something special," Harry piped in, and Hermione mentally acknowledged how her best friends were falling all over themselves to make her feel better.

"All right, but let's go to Whimsic Alley. What you want will be _expensive_, and certainly frivolous—and Practic Alley is NOT the place to find that sort of thing," Hermione said, a small smile creeping onto her face. They were still such boys sometimes!

"Great! I'll just clear up this last report and I'll join you there," Harry said.

"Does this shopping trip include lunch?" Severt asked, and Hermione sighed. She was terrible at holding grudges, most of the time.

"Of course. Let's go."


	29. Osmanthus

**Good evening! Yes, another chapter already. It's lovely to have time to write. Thank you ALL for the reviews! I've tried to PM all of you, but here's a quick rundown again:**

**KEZZ, you are always quick to review & so positive!**

**zeeksmom, sorry to be a distraction to your actual job of writing! But thank you for the reviews! Hopefully this chapter provides some help for you figuring out who is doing what.**

**Cyador, yes, Lucius is going to pay a high price for keeping Hermione in the dark.**

**Alesia, oh THANK YOU for getting what I've been trying to convey about Hermione and integrating herself into the Malfoy ****_family_****. She is and has always been so strong and independent, and now she is faced with weakness (her pregnancy) and integrating her wishes with a larger family. I hoped this angst has been coming out and your review makes me think, yes, it is! So thank you! And I fixed that typo. You are a great copy editor!**

**casper22, I think you will like this chapter, and you will DEFINITELY dig the next one!**

**angstar, yes, Therese is quite the character! I like her, she is fun to write and I think she will be back at the end just because she is a hoot! **

**Ok, the next chapter is on the go, but damn, it is tough writing. Not because I don't know what to say, but because it is emotional and wrenching for me to write! It is a chapter that will probably make ME cry as the author, so, you are forewarned. So let's see what happens next, shall we, and if you lovely folks could continue to REVIEW, I would love it! Even those one liners just really give me a pick-me-up! Enjoy!**

* * *

When Lucius and Bertrand pulled their heads out of the pensieve, Bertrand's jaw was tight but he was under good regulation again, his anger controlled.

"That was not me," Bertrand said as Lucius calmly retrieved the strand of memory with his wand and put it back to his temple.

"I figured as much after Thérèse's little 'intervention'," Lucius said. "If that was not you, what have you been doing?"

"I've been in China, buying tea," Bertrand said, pulling his own memory and tossing it into the pensieve. It was so mundane there was no way it could be a lie. Bertrand was many things, but a neglectful business owner was not one of them. He hoarded success the way other wizards hoarded Galleons, although of course Bertrand had plenty of those as well. They both went back into the pensieve, and Lucius watched his cousin negotiate ruthlessly for osmanthus flowers, haggling in fluent Chinese. Lucius pulled his head out of the pensieve and his cousin followed immediately, flicking the memory back into his head.

"Osmanthus is a valuable potions ingredient as well. You've been bidding up the prices with all your interest for your tea company," Lucius said.

"Well it's not as if some ingredients don't overlap," Bertrand sniffed. "You can't expect that I'm going to dither about when it comes to the right season for buying."

"Well I know it! I'm supposed to be there as well buying stock for Malfoy Enterprises—instead I am here, jumping and skulking about to catch those responsible for attempting to kidnap or maim my wife," Lucius replied irritably. "Now, would Bedell have access to your apartment in Paris?"

Bertrand's eyes gleamed dangerously again. "I would hardly think him capable of breaking my wards, but your evidence seems to point to the contrary. I have hardly flaunted my mistress among mixed company. And it is well known that I always go to China at this time of year for business. It's obviously one of the few things—"

"—that you don't trust others to do for you. Yes, I perfectly comprehend that. Obviously, he's been impersonating you. The question is, for how long? Have you been making inquiries into my work for some time?" Lucius' mind was already jumping through conclusions, and Bertrand was quick to follow.

"Well you could hardly expect us to let your branch of the family implode after so much work went into resurrecting it after the war," Bertrand sniffed disapprovingly. "Of course I was poking around! Nevertheless, my inquiries have been slow and have, I admit, not received my full attention. I can't say I found it particularly inspiring to fight to keep a Mudblood in the family. However, I could see that your choke collar was being skillfully employed—tell me, why do you put up with it?" Bertrand was haughtily curious, and Lucius shook his head, ignoring the insult to Hermione easily.

"I think you know full well why I allowed it, but suffice it to say, if I can clear up this nastiness, I have an oath that it will be gone for good. I assure you, I am prepared to take all necessary measures to ensure that it becomes so." His tone was steely, and Bertrand nodded.

"Let us compare notes. My Ministry contacts are sparse but at least they have been steady correspondents. I am sure that if Bedell is responsible, we will find the evidence of it. And when we do, I reserve the right to find out _why_ he has done this," Bertrand said, his tone of voice leaving no doubt that he would not hesitate to turn his own wand against his brother if necessary.

* * *

"Mucky weather," Severt observed as they left the hospital. The wind was enough to be noticeable, and snow was falling in wet flakes.

"Now, Ron, are you looking for something that is about keeping a memory, something cuddly for the baby, something to pamper Lavender…?" Hermione prompted as they walked toward the intersection of Diagon Alley with Whimsic Alley.

"I don't know, Hermione. I just want her to have some of the extras, you know? Something that will make her happy when she sees it," Ron said.

"That's not terribly helpful, but let's see what we can find," Hermione said, scanning the storefronts. Truthfully she had not been here very often, Astoria having dragged her a few times to purchase something for Scorpius.

"Uh, what about that shop Hermione?" Ron asked, pointing to a boutique with frilly baby clothes and what seemed to be vintage prams in the shop window.

"If you want frippery, that seems a good…" Hermione stopped in her tracks, grabbing Ron by the arm. "Ron, am I imagining things?" She gestured with her head toward a familiar platinum blond, walking along quickly with another wizard.

"Is that Lucius?" Ron asked as Hermione gawked at her husband, his hair dancing around his shoulders as he made his way through the crowds easily.

"Come on Ron! Lucius!" Hermione called, but he didn't hear her. Hermione began to pull him along with her, nearly breaking into a jog to keep up. She got glimpses of Lucius' face, and the other wizard—definitely his cousin, Bertrand.

"Hey!" Severt called from behind them, and Hermione could hear him running to catch up, trying to move through the crowds as Hermione darted along with surprisingly alacrity for a seven months' pregnant witch, dragging Ron who was protesting, "Hermione, wait! I'm sure he'll explain—"

The rest of what Ron was going to say was made instantly irrelevant as they turned a corner into an alley and were confronted with the drawn wand of Thorfinn Rowle. Everything seemed to slow down: Hermione registering a shock of green hair to her right, Ron parrying a curse, Severt's voice from behind them—"It's a trap!"

It was so frantic, Hermione felt disconnected from her body. She couldn't tell how many assailants were present in the dimness of the alley, merely worked to block hex after hex and return fire as best she could. Absurdly the baby began kicking her, a fact that she ignored in her mind as her wand moved almost automatically, her brain clicking into the too-familiar act of defending herself.

"Up there!" She heard Severt arrive, his wand flashing as he engaged a shadowy figure on the rooftop, taking him or her down nimbly and turning his wand toward the others behind. It seemed evenly matched, Hermione's Auror escorts giving as good as they were getting, at least holding their ground.

Someone screamed behind her, and the grin on Rowle's face told her he had cut someone down, presumably one of the Aurors. Hermione's face flushed with panic when she saw Ron flinch as a slicing hex cut deep in his shoulder when he looked back to see if it was his partner, but he turned back quickly and kept dueling with a fierce determination. Hermione was dueling Miss Green Hair, and the witch was putting quite a bit of power into her curses, causing Hermione to put all of her effort into countering them and not putting forth any complex curses of her own.

"Not so clever now, are you Hermione?" The green haired witch seemed coolly confident, driving Hermione a bit away from Ron with her hexes. It was a taunt, designed to weaken her nerve. Hermione barely blocked one when she heard the welcome relief of Harry's voice.

"You seem to like being captured in public places, Thorfinn," Harry said coolly, dueling in alongside the flagging Ron.

"Not today, Potter," he sneered, throwing an _Incendio_ at Harry, which Harry blocked with a freezing charm.

"A little help here," Hermione panted, and Ron turned his wand toward the green witch, since Harry seemed to have Rowle in hand, and the remaining Auror(s) were effectively batting back the assailants further down the alley. The large ex-Death Eater was scowling now, Harry being faster with his wand. He was watching the wizard to see if he still dropped his wand slightly after attempting an _Avada_...this would be Harry's opportunity.

"_Avada kedavra!_"

Harry dodged the green curse as it zinged past, throwing his own underhanded curse at Rowle in a move reminiscent of Sirius Black. The magical ropes ensnared Rowle and he dropped with a yell of anger, causing the green haired witch to shriek in dismay.

"No!" Her eyes narrowed and she focused on Hermione, who cast a strong _Protego _as the witch whipped her wand in a sharp flick to the side. It was just a split second, but Hermione saw it, the slight change to her wand angle, taking the brunt of Ron's jelly fingers jinx, her own spell already darting at the wizard. He had no time to block it, and the witch was there just long enough to see it hit before she disapparated with a loud crack, leaving her wand on the ground where it had fallen. Hermione turned to Ron, whose face was ashen as he crumpled to the ground.

"Ron!"

* * *

Lucius was beyond exhausted when he finally portkeyed home to the Manor. Twigs instantly popped into view, waiting for instructions. The elves were finely tuned to the wards of the property, a convenience which Lucius often took for granted.

"Who is at home?" he demanded of the house elf, shrugging off his cloak and the snow. Twigs cleaned off his shoes as he walked toward his study, the house elf delegating the wet cloak to Firkin.

"Mistress Astoria and young master Scorpius are at home," Twigs replied. "Do you require a late luncheon?"

Lucius was quickly flicking through the post that had accumulated while he was gone, sorting it into items that would need to be dealt with urgently and everything else. "Where is my wife?"

The house elf bowed deeply, a sign that he was about to impart news that Lucius would not like. "Mistress went to St. Mungo's, Master."

Lucius dropped the week-old _Daily Prophet_ with its eye-catching headline slandering Hermione, slowly turning the full force of his gaze on the house elf. "Why?"

His tone was pointedly clipped, and Lucius knew something was very wrong when the venerable Twigs began to tremble at his age. "Is not for Twigs to say, Master! I apologize, drop stone urn from roof on myself, I will!"

"My cloak, now!"

* * *

Hermione watched as her best friend writhed on the ground, his chest spasming and causing more blood to pour forth from his shoulder. She rolled him onto his back as best she could, trying to discern what was wrong with him using her wand and her eyes. Ron was trying to suck in air, but his face was turning blue as the last of the skirmish was being concluded around them.

"Ron, I'll help you, I'll fix it," Hermione said, trying every healing spell she could think of. It didn't help, and he was suffocating in front of her, his shoulder still bleeding heavily. He was like a fish out of water…a fish out of water! Hermione's wand snapped, and she cast a bubble head charm on him, then on a hunch she began enhancing the air inside, enriching the oxygen levels and increasing the pressure with a guided _Deprimo_. Harry knelt down as pops of apparition signaled the arrival of reinforcements and the departure of those who had not been captured.

"Ron, mate, breathe please," Harry said, holding Ron's hand. "We need help here! Auror down!"

Ron's chest began to swell alarmingly even as the color started returning slowly to his face, and Hermione waved her wand somewhat unsteadily, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I'll ease off the pressure…"

"You're doing good, Hermione. Just keep doing that, we'll get him to Mungo's and he'll be right as rain in a tick," Harry said steadily, seeing the panic still in Ron's eyes as he struggled for each breath.

"Yes, of course Harry," Hermione said, tears spilling down her cheeks. "You'll be just fine, Ron."

"Let's get him going! Careful now," Harry said, and Hermione saw that it was Ron's partner, Severt, who was helping to levitate Ron out of the alley. "Slow and steady! Make sure Hermione can keep up with you—watch your step with the curb, Hermione…"

It was an agonizing four minute walk back to St. Mungo's, made more difficult by the snow and the repeated 'notice me not' charms that the Aurors had to cast to get them through the last, Muggle, street.

"Help!" Harry said, his voice carrying through the lobby, recognition sparking an instant response from the receptionist. A team of Healers rushed out from a set of double doors, and Hermione gave a choking description of his symptoms, reluctant to stop administering the spell that was forcing oxygen into the bubble.

"I've got him, Granger. Let it go and let us work on him." Draco's voice was like an anesthetic, and she let him push her wand away gently, his attention fixed on Ron as they moved him off to a treatment room. She turned back to the lobby to see Molly Weasley rush through the entrance.

"Where is Ron? His hand pointed to Mortal Danger—where is my son?"

"They're treating him now, Molly," Harry said, cutting Mrs. Weasley off. "We were with Hermione, about to go to lunch and do some shopping. We were attacked, and Ron was hit with some kind of a curse that affected his lungs. Hermione managed to get him stable enough to get him here."

Mrs. Weasley fixed her attention on Hermione, enfolding her in a hard hug. "Oh my dear, I am so very sorry you are going through this. You've been through beyond enough in your lifetime. Thank you so much for what you did for Ron."

Hermione pulled back and attempted to downplay it. "He would never have been cursed if he weren't with me—"

Molly Weasley's expression turned fierce. "Don't start that nonsense. He's an Auror, danger is part of the job. I just hope those Healers are still as top notch as they were for Arthur. They work miracles here. Now, you weren't hit yourself? Have you been checked?"

Harry shook his head in answer to Molly's question, and she wiped her few tears from her eyes and said, "Well, let's have that seen to while they take care of Ron. It will give me something to do and some peace of mind to boot."

Fifteen minutes later Hermione was cleared by a mediwitch and they settled to wait for word, Arthur Weasley having arrived with Lavender in the interim.

"Molly!" Lavender shrieked, and Mrs. Weasley hugged her tight.

"There, there, Lavender, I'm sure he'll be right as rain," she said. Hermione felt Arthur put an arm around her shoulder and give her a squeeze.

"He's a stubborn one, our Ron."

"Yes he is," Hermione felt the tears coming but held them back. Harry had disappeared, probably to deal with Thorfinn Rowle at the Ministry. Finally, after what felt like an hour but was probably less than that, Draco Malfoy and another, more senior Healer came out.

"We've stabilized him, but it's not a curse we've seen before," the senior Healer explained to Lavender and the Weasleys. "He's in an induced coma for the time being, as it allows us to regulate his breathing and oxygen saturation better. But our best curse breakers are working on it, and we have every hope of being able to bring him out within a few days, perhaps a week."

"Oh my," Lavender said quietly, and the senior Healer offered, "Would you like to see your husband, Mrs. Weasley?"

"Yes, please," Lavender whispered, and the Healer offered his arm. "Only one visitor at a time, please."

"Of course," Arthur said, clasping Molly to his side. Draco took the opportunity to draw Hermione aside.

"Look, Father is back," he began, and Hermione interrupted him fiercely, her voice rising above the whisper Draco was using and drawing Molly and Arthur's attention.

"Yes, I know that. I _saw_ him, Draco! He was there, just before the attack," Hermione said, and Draco was momentarily stunned into silence. A disapproving look on his face, Arthur stepped over to Hermione and Molly jumped into action.

"Hermione, dear, I would love it if you would come to the Burrow with us. I expect Lavender will want to stay with Ron, and we will come back to see him this evening, and to make sure Lavender gets a good night's rest."

"Granger—" Draco began, recovering his power of speech as Hermione embraced Molly fiercely.

"I would love that Molly, thank you." The absolute horror of the afternoon was beginning to tell, and Hermione was determined not to begin crying again in front of any Malfoy. Ignoring Draco's protests, Hermione marched firmly toward the Floo point, loudly saying, "The Burrow!" before she vanished in a swirl of green flames, Molly and Arthur Weasley right behind her.

"Fuck," Draco muttered to himself as she vanished.

* * *

The Burrow was warm and cozy as always, and Molly was fussing over her in the manner at which she excelled, insisting that Hermione put her feet up on a small needlepoint ottoman, and urging Arthur to stoke up the fire and "fetch the ginger lemon biscuits from the tin, there's a dear!"

Hermione felt numb, her mind unable to process everything that had gone on. It was as though the horrific curse on Ron had blotted out all other aspects, bleeding into her consciousness like the throbbing, dull panic that had shredded her self-confidence during the attack. The tears that had been threatening at St. Mungo's were now entirely absent. She just felt cold, deadened inside.

"Hermione, dear, have some tea." Molly had wisely decided that Hermione would talk about what happened when she was good and ready, and she could see that Arthur was prepared to wait, although he was too anxious to eat any biscuits. Hermione's mind now clicked into high gear, images shifting like a dreadful kaleidoscope. She kept freezing on the sight of Ron, his shoulder nearly cleaved off, his face ashen as he tried to get oxygen into his lungs. When she spoke, her voice was clinical, detached.

"You know, for some reason, I thought that if we three had survived and defeated Voldemort, that nothing could ever touch us. That despite the dangerous line of work that Harry and Ron chose, their injuries could never be as dangerous as those days. I realize now…that I was wrong." Hermione's voice broke, and all of a sudden the tears came gushing, her body wracked with sobs. Molly was instantly there, comforting her with an arm around her, rubbing her shoulder and offering soothing words as Hermione cried. Finally, Hermione sniffled, "You would have been so proud of him, Molly and Arthur! He fought so hard, against Thorfinn Rowle, and defending me from this awful witch. He was brilliant, truly brilliant, just as we know Ron to be. And I just can't stop picturing that small flick of her wrist, that little sign that she was casting at _him_ and not _me_. But there was no time to warn him, no time to do anything to prevent it—"

"Duels are always messy and unpredictable. You did a great job protecting yourself and you did your best for Ron too, and he will be just fine," Molly said stoutly. "Just look at the clock dear—no longer on Mortal Peril. That's how I know, he'll be just fine."

"You said something about Lucius being there, Hermione. Can you explain what you meant?" Arthur's question was conveyed in a level tone, but there was a glint in his eye that indicated he was perhaps less objective about the subject than he'd profess to be.

"We were following him, with his French cousin. That is when we got attacked," Hermione said, although suddenly that moment stood out in sharp clarity for an instant in her mind. Before she could pinpoint why that was so, there was a knock at the door of Burrow, and Arthur got up to answer it. He opened the door to Lucius Malfoy.

"Arthur," he said coolly. "I believe you have my wife here."


	30. Refuge

**First things first: obligatory reminder that this universe doesn't belong to me. *le sigh***

**angstar, thanks! Glad you liked that bit.**

**zeeksmom, I will go back and fix the grammatical niggle, good catch! Can't promise much in the way of revelations as to the baddies this chapter, but as usual stay tuned.**

**eliza and Blood Red Gun, glad you are enjoying everything thus far!**

**caspet, yes, Lucius is in for it here, hehe.**

**Alesia, I think I was just happy someone was getting the dynamics of the relationships here. Sorry if I was bit effusive! My own fault, I was a bit put off by one reviewer but as they say, you can't please everyone! Yes, the green haired witch is a nasty piece of work. I knew you'd catch that clue, hehe.**

**Fun fact of the week: the B&B mentioned in this chapter does actually exist. I've never stayed there, but it sounds lovely. **

**Ok, so this chapter took AGES because it was just damn hard to write and get right. I hope I have the balance now. There is more to come, but frankly it would have been a behemoth chapter so I broke it up, which also gives me time to fine tune the next bit. I hope you all enjoy the final product, and please DO let me know what you think! I love all the feedback! Thank you for reading!**

* * *

Arthur held a tight grip on the door, not opening it further than necessary.

"I don't believe she cares to speak with you at the moment," Arthur said. "You know, I always knew it would end up this way. Some wizards never learn how to treat others."

"You have no idea what you are talking about. Stand aside." Lucius was tight lipped, holding his temper firmly in check. He wondered how much of this conversation Hermione could overhear—with this rat's nest of a dwelling Merlin only knew how close the sitting room was to the door.

"Did you have anything to do with the attack on my son and Hermione today?" Arthur asked, looking Lucius straight in the eye.

"The last time I checked, you weren't the head of the DMLE. I can assure you, the Aurors won't be knocking on my door to arrest me—instead, they will be continuing to work _with_ me. Even your son, shocking as that might seem to you. Now, I would _like_ to _see_ my _wife_. Stand aside." His teeth were clenched now, and he was restraining the very great urge to draw his wand and hex both of the Weasleys. He knew that would not be the best course of action in Hermione's view, however, so he refrained, rigidly reasserting control over his baser emotions.

Arthur's eyes narrowed, and he said softly, "As if you give a damn about your wife. You never listened to your first wife, and now she's cold in her grave. I won't let you do the same to Hermione through your neglect."

Lucius stepped closer, his eyes flashing dangerously as his voice dropped to a low tone. "I won't disrespect Narcissa's memory by speaking of my feelings for her to you, nor will I disrespect Hermione by doing the same. But Hermione and the child she carries are my family now. Would I ever intentionally hurt my family?"

Lucius could practically see Arthur turning over all of their history together, all the way back to school and their early rows at the Ministry. If the flash in Arthur's eye had been pitying, or accusatory, or in any way belittling, Lucius would have turned on his heel and departed, wife or not. But it was a curious blend of grudging respect and innate optimism, Lucius supposed, as Arthur slowly opened the door and said, "I'll take you to speak with her then. But if she says you go, you're out, am I clear?"

Lucius knew the wards on the Burrow were at least capable of throwing him out for a time, so he nodded curtly and let Arthur lead him through the cramped warren of a house. It was a short journey, which probably meant that Hermione and Molly Weasley had heard every word. The Weasley matriarch showed no sign of budging from her place next to Hermione on the couch, so Lucius decided to deal with that problem first.

"How kind of you to invite me into your home," Lucius said smoothly with patent insincerity. "Perhaps a cup of tea?" His eyebrow rose and his eyes moved meaningfully to the teapot and half empty cups. "I would like to talk to my wife, in private."

Molly murmured something in Hermione's ear, while Arthur stood with his arms crossed across his chest. "Remember what I said, Lucius," he felt compelled to say before he escorted Molly the twenty odd steps to what must be the kitchen. At least there was a partial wall blocking the view, but privacy was apparently not to be had. Hermione simply stared at him, and Lucius tried not to be annoyed when she flinched her gaze away from him as he sat on the couch. Draco had not had much time to tell him all that had happened in his absence, but he had told Lucius that Hermione thought she had seen him Whimsic Alley today. Irrespective of whatever she had been up to in his absence, Lucius knew he had to address this point immediately.

"Hermione, I have only just returned from France. I sincerely hope you would not misjudge me such that you believe me connected in any fashion to the traumatic attack you experienced today," he began, but Hermione interrupted him, her stony expression cracking to reveal a passionate anger and fatigue.

"How _dare_ you accuse me of misjudging you? I _saw_, Lucius! I saw you there! And you did nothing!" Hermione was yelling, not caring about who heard her. "You and your slimy cousin Bertrand, scurrying around! We followed you, right into a trap!" She stood up, her fists clenched by her sides as she warred with the impulse to strike him.

"Whatever you _think_ you saw, witch, it was NOT. ME! Now, are you going to _sit down_ and listen to me, or am I going to stupefy you and drag you home?" Lucius' voice was like a silent whip, the crack of his threat at the end infuriating Hermione even more, her emotions shuddering through her.

"You wouldn't dare," she hissed, and Lucius stood and went nose to nose with her.

"Try me."

It was a staring contest, a battle of wills for a few seconds, Hermione's charged caramel brown fiercely locked with Lucius' swirling mercury.

"Are you going to tell me you haven't been keeping company with your cousin Bertrand?"

_Shit_.

"Yes, I have, but IN FRANCE," Lucius began, but Hermione raised her hand to slap him. His reflexes were still honed, and he caught her hand before it could make contact, holding her wrist firmly and hoping he wasn't bruising her.

"Sit. Down. Before I hex those two taking all this in from the doorway and carry you home. Since you want an audience for our little domestic, you will have one, for now," Lucius snarled quietly, losing control of his temper a little bit.

The fog of anger and hurt began to clear a little bit from her brain, and Hermione saw Molly and Arthur standing goggle-eyed in the doorway, Arthur's hand inching toward his wand. Her gaze darted back to her husband, who was clearly struggling mightily with his temper.

"Everything okay, Hermione?" Arthur asked suspiciously, and Hermione dropped her hand, suddenly ashamed of herself for trying to hit Lucius, bright spots of color blooming in her cheeks. Lucius let her hand drop, hoping that perhaps he wouldn't have to use his wand and make this situation any messier than it already was.

"I'm fine, thank you. I just—need to talk to Lucius," Hermione said, tight-lipped. Molly and Arthur exchanged a glance, and Molly sent the fresh tea in with her wand.

"We'll be in the kitchen if you need us, dearie," Molly said, dragging a reluctant Arthur away from the tense couple in their living room.

"I'm sorry I tried to hit you, even if you are an insufferable…arrogant, deceitful…uncaring, high-handed, ignorant, ASS!" Hermione shouted the last, tears finally rolling down her cheeks.

"A high-handed ass who is almost to the bottom of the plot to injure you and the Ministry," Lucius retorted angrily, sitting down warily as Hermione sat back down, her back as straight as possible.

"I saw you, Lucius. You and your cousin Bertrand. I was so mad at you for not communicating with me while you were gone—and to find out you had sent Harry and Draco owls this morning, it was the last straw." Her voice was quiet but at least the tears were lessening. Lucius offered his handkerchief, which she took and clutched in her hands, but didn't use, he noticed.

"Tell me what you saw today. I want you to go through your memory very carefully. If we had a pensieve I would do it with you—unless you're ready to go home now?"

Hermione shook her head, and Lucius bit back an instinctive hurtful reply about distrust in general and focused on the objective. "Fine. Just think through it, please. Does anything stand out to you?"

"We were walking toward Whimsic Alley. Ron wanted to find a gift for Lavender. It was snowing and windy. I thought I saw you, I moved faster to get a better look. The wind was causing your hair to dance around…" she stopped and Lucius felt the vicious glimmer of vindication.

"And?" Lucius prodded, satisfaction writ large on his face.

"You haven't worn your hair down in months," Hermione said, really looking at him for the first time since he'd arrived.

"Yes, dear wife. Which means you saw a polyjuiced impersonator," Lucius said.

Hermione felt horribly guilty for missing such an obvious clue, and her sense of honor compelled her to apologize for it. "I'm sorry, Lucius. My mind was elsewhere, and when I thought I saw you, I was just so mad because you hadn't communicated with me! I followed without thinking—who could have had access to your hair? You've been so careful for so long now…"

"In point of fact, I have good reason to suspect exactly who that is, but that is beside the immediate point. Now, if you don't mind, I would prefer to continue our _private_ discussion _at home_."

"You mean back to my prison," Hermione said bitterly, her anger flaring again as she processed the fact that he offered neither apology nor explanation for keeping her in the dark. "You'd prefer it if I stayed in an unbreakable bubble charm, vessel to your child and slave to your wishes, never asking why or what you are up to."

She knew it was unfair, and also untrue, but Hermione's emotions were running out of control. When she raised her eyes to look at him again, the look on his face was one of controlled violence, and Hermione was aware in part of her that she had again stirred the Death Eater, that vicious part of himself that Lucius kept in such tight control.

"You will listen to me now, Hermione. Never in my life have I been so tempted to put the Imperius on you. You are being unreasonable and immature, and I refuse to continue talking to you in this…_nest_ of a dwelling. I have been skulking around shady corners of France for over a week, dodged Dolohov and his minions to unravel the shady other members of their little club, been schooled yet again by my aunt, and come home to find you again entangled in innumerable brushes with disaster. I've only heard about today and briefly glanced at the Prophet's smear of your work, and if I find out you've been up to anything else, I believe I may reinstitute the use of the dungeons at the Manor, with or without Kingsley's blessing!" Lucius paused as he saw a miniscule twitch in Hermione's cheek, and his jaw tightened. _So, there is something else_. He continued, "Obviously there are more than a few things we need to discuss, but it will be in the privacy of our home, without a hovering audience!"

At this Lucius pulled his wand and zapped the extendable ear that was nearly hidden under the pile of cushions on the armchair, the suddenness of the move startling Hermione into drawing her own wand in case he was serious about the Imperius curse. Lucius' eyebrow rose and he pointedly stood, offering his hand. "Now, Hermione, if you please, let's Floo home so we may continue to berate each other in private?"

Hermione realized that Lucius' patience was at an end, and the fact that he still had his wand out was a testament to his gritty need to escape Molly and Arthur's well-intentioned but, she admitted, unnecessary prying. Subconsciously not wanting to cede the mix of anger, resentment, and worry that had been fueling her, Hermione simply said, "I'm tired," and placed her hand in Lucius', allowing him to help her up from the admittedly saggy couch.

He noticed a twinge of pain flit across her face, and he asked, "You weren't hurt today, were you? They did check you at Mungo's—Draco checked you over?"

"Yes, I was checked, and the baby and I are both fine." Lucius was about to ask further questions when the sound of a throat being cleared drew their attention.

"Hermione?"

Both of them looked back to the doorway, where Arthur was eying them uncertainly, Molly hovering behind. "Everything alright dear?" she asked from over Arthur's shoulder.

Hermione saw the muscle in Lucius' temple tick, and knew he was out of patience. "Yes, thank you Molly, Arthur. We're just going home. I'll speak with you soon."

"Of course dear." Really, there was nothing else Molly could say, and at least she had the grace to feel somewhat ashamed for eavesdropping, although she didn't let it show on her face.

"Be careful of yourself, Hermione," Arthur called out after them, causing Lucius to say with a bit more viciousness than intended, "Malfoy Manor!" as he threw a larger than necessary handful of Floo powder into the flames, then stepped in with Hermione.

* * *

A jolt and sideways lurch as they traveled had Lucius cursing under his breath, and his grip on Hermione tightened as they were thrust out an unfamiliar fireplace.

"What was that?" Hermione asked.

"My mistake. I blocked the Floo at the Manor to the Weasley home long ago," Lucius replied quickly, his wand out. While their surroundings were obviously wizard in nature, it was not clear exactly where they were. There was no pot of Floo powder, and before Lucius made the decision to apparate them home, a middle-aged auburn haired witch appeared in the doorway with a pot of Floo powder.

"Oh, I wondered who that was. You won't be needing that, I assure you," the witch said, gesturing toward Lucius' wand with the pot of Floo powder. "You are welcome to leave at any time, although of course you need this at the moment, else you wouldn't be here, would you?"

"I beg your pardon?" Hermione said in disbelief, unconsciously adopting her husband's hauteur. The woman was a strange creature, her deep purple robes bedecked with stars and astrological symbols, her hair an odd mix of dreadlocks and curls.

"This is a House of Refuge—Bloomfield House, to be precise. A temporary refuge for wizards and witches in need of clarity on their journey." She cocked her head and studied them. "Dark and light, hard and soft. Yes, your need called you here."

Her voice had taken an odd lilt, and Lucius suppressed a groan. "A Seer."

The woman brightened and smiled. "Oh, you are quick. I do like that in my guests."

"Are those radish earrings?" Hermione asked, slightly incredulous. "They look just like ones worn by a friend of mine."

"Dirigible plums, dear. Luna Lovegood, perchance? Her father Xenophilius is a wonderful friend of mine. They keep the Wrackspurts away, you know. Hmmm, your head is full of Wrackspurts…" the witch turned her gaze toward Lucius, but apparently thought the better of commenting on his mental state.

"Please," Hermione said holding up a hand to silence the witch. "Lucius, are we going or staying?"

"What established the protections on this house?" Lucius demanded to know, his wand still at the ready.

The witch looked surprised. "Why, the ley line from Salisbury, of course! Bloomfield House only dates to the Georgian era, but this structure was merely a replacement for an older refuge that dates back to the time of the Druids."

"Where are we?" Lucius asked, his posture relaxing slightly.

"Near Bath. Muggles think this is a regular bed and breakfast, but they are never able to stay here, of course," the witch chuckled as if at a private joke. "Now, I really must know so I can have the bed turned down. Going or staying?"

Lucius took in Hermione's drawn face and asked the proprietess, "Do you have an owl I may use?"

The witch beamed. "Of course. I'll just put this here, but of course you won't be needing it now—not that it matters, I shan't see you again during your stay. That's the whole point of a House of Refuge—absolute privacy and safety. The room will provide what you need. Enjoy the respite, dearies—you need it!"

Lucius could feel a headache coming on. "Well, let's go up then," he said irritably to Hermione as the odd witch swept from the room. Hermione turned a quizzical eye to her husband, one hand on her lower back.

"Not to quibble, but why are you acquiescing to this so readily? You don't mean to tell me you think the wards on this house are sufficient for your taste?"

"I thought you wanted an escape from your _prison_," Lucius said, then held out his hand, his face suddenly showing his tiredness. "Please."

Wordlessly Hermione gave him her hand, and he escorted her up the elliptical staircase. Before Hermione could ask how they would know which room would be theirs, a paneled door opened a bit further down a short hallway, and inside an owl was visible in the dim light, waiting impatiently on the window ledge outside.

"I'll send a note to Draco," Lucius said stiffly, and Hermione didn't bother to reply. Instead she lit the wall sconces with her wand and took in the room. It had a king sized, canopied bed, what appeared to be an antique writing desk, Hepplewhite side tables, and comfortable armchairs and a chaise near a fireplace that she had roaring comfortably in short order. Lucius finished scribbling his short note to Draco, attached it to the leg of the owl, then sent it off in the sleet and closed the window, scourgifying the mess on the carpet from the weather. He turned as Hermione came back from her brief exploration of the bathroom. She stood, limned in the light from the bathroom, and Lucius felt the weight of his Ministry vow and the disquiet between them. Could nothing be easy?

"Dinner?" Lucius asked, and Hermione nodded.

It was probable that the lamb, parsnips, and asparagus were perfectly prepared. The only place suitable for eating was by the fireplace, a small table and chairs apparently placed nearby for that purpose. However, the silence was leaden, burdened with the expectations of continued argument and hurt feelings on both sides. It made the meal incredibly uncomfortable despite the extreme, almost painful comfort of their temporary 'refuge'.

Finally, after they had finished what little they wanted to eat, and Hermione was pretending to drink tea while Lucius was pretending to drink brandy, Hermione finally spoke for the first time in nearly an hour.

"I wasn't aware that Houses of Refuge still existed. They aren't much talked of nowadays, and I was under the impression that they were something of a myth from the last great wizarding war."

"Those who serve as curators, for lack of a better term, foster that perception deliberately. They are meant to be used sporadically, and I expect that if many wizards knew of them and their locations, their doors would have been beaten down during the last two, how shall I put this, _lesser_ wars in Britain, although doubtless there were those who hid in them during particularly nasty points." Lucius then did take a decent portion of brandy into his mouth, but he couldn't enjoy it.

_Right, let's get down to it then_, he thought. Setting down the snifter and mentally girding himself for whatever was going to come out of his wife's mouth, Lucius asked, "Could you please explain to me why you were at St. Mungo's today?"

"I was visiting someone who was injured recently. Perhaps you remember her—Dr. Frederica Hayes?" Hermione's voice was cool, but her barb did not go unnoticed.

Lucius' eyes flashed. "What the _devil_ is that woman doing in Britain?" he asked, his voice dangerously low.

"I think the better question is what the devil were you doing visiting her without me?" Hermione retorted furiously.

"Answer my question, wife! How is that Muggle researcher in the United Kingdom?" Lucius knew, just knew he was not going to like his wife's answer.

Hermione set her teacup down with a bit too much vehemence, the still hot liquid sloshing onto her hand and causing her temporary pain. "I went to see her myself! Because _you _didn't see fit to tell _me_ that you'd already been, or better yet, take me with you! How DARE you, Lucius! **I** needed to talk to her, face to face, and you went behind my back!"

"And you went off behind my back as well," Lucius shot back. "And you still haven't told me how she comes to be in St. Mungo's, injured. _Explain. Now_."

Hermione forced herself to look him in the eye. "There was an attack while I was there. I believe they were trying to kidnap her. It was Dolohov. He hit her with a curse before I portkeyed us both back to the Manor, and Draco was able to stabilize her so we could take her to Mungo's."

"And what is her prognosis?" Lucius asked in a very quiet voice, the only visible sign that he was very angry.

"She will be fine, but she lost her baby," Hermione said quietly, not able to look at him while saying it. She stole a glance at him just as he erupted.

"Are you saying that Antonin Dolohov sent a curse _deliberately designed_ to kill an in-utero baby at a Muggle?"

"I don't know who he was aiming at, it flew past me and hit her—" Hermione stopped with a gasp as Lucius was suddenly out of his chair, his hands gripping the arms of her chair and looming over her.

"Do you mean to tell me you were unprotected, in front of this Muggle, with Dolohov throwing curses?" He was yelling now, and Hermione pushed him back and stood as well.

"We both know it's impossible to be perfectly hidden in the middle of a BLOODY BATTLE Lucius! And YES, I was protecting her, AND myself, and that is why I portkeyed us both away from there, otherwise—"

"YOU COULD HAVE BLOODY DIED! YOU COULD HAVE LOST OUR BABY!"

"None of this would have happened if you had just been honest with me and let me go with you!" Hermione shouted back, her chest heaving. She felt tears prickling at the corner of her eyes, and angrily wiped them away. Lucius watched her do it, then unexpectedly he pulled her roughly into his arms.

"Sweet Salazar, witch, do not EVER do that again! I don't care if someone is about to Avada me, for Circe's sake keep yourself safe," he said roughly against her hair, curling her into himself as much as possible. The damn tears Hermione had been attempting to keep at bay overwhelmed her, and she sobbed into Lucius' chest.

"I was scared, Lucius. It was all too close—and you weren't there, for all of it, you wouldn't tell me where you were or what you were doing—"

Lucius couldn't find the right words, memories of Narcissa's death flooding him. He could imagine the curse leaving Dolohov's wand, could see how easily it could have hit _her_, hit _their child_…he shuddered, closing his eyes as if to banish the image.

"Hermione," Lucius began to say, but Hermione continued, the words tumbling over themselves in their haste to get out of her mind, "I am sick of being kept in the dark about what you're doing, of being treated as an afterthought in your life, of being expected to stop everything I'm doing, everything I _am_ because I am pregnant and my work is highly controversial. I feel as if everyone wants to wrap me up in cotton wool and keep me packed away safely in a box until this baby is born and all of the nastiness at work is dealt with by others. And I simply cannot tolerate being treated as if I'm incompetent, or stupid, or some Stepford wife who will do your or your proxy's bidding with meek complacency!"

She lifted her face to his as she spoke, earnestness writ large across her features. He allowed her to pull back a bit, and as she shifted on the balls of her feet he noticed a flicker of pain cross her face again. He released her and rubbed his face in his hands, then took her hand. "Come to bed. You're in pain and tired. I want to be comfortable since we are apparently having an extended row."

"Really, Lucius?" Hermione said with a hint of disbelief, but Lucius noticed she made no further objection as they donned the pajamas that had appeared and performed their evening ablutions.

If there was one thing the wars had taught Lucius, it was the value of patience. Hermione had unloaded quite a few emotional burdens, and it would take patience to unravel them before he could even begin to tell her of his own…_concerns_. He was intelligent enough to recognize that she was not in a state to actually _hear_ him. Crossing to the bed, he sat with his back and against the headboard and his legs spread wide.

"Come, sit," he said gruffly, his body aware of how long it had been since he'd enjoyed his wife's full company. _That is not the point now_, he told himself sternly, and he patted the bed between his legs. "Where are you uncomfortable?"

"We are going to continue our discussion, are we not?" Hermione prodded, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"Yes, o stubborn one," Lucius said, reaching forward to pull her back by her hips, helping her onto the bed. "But I won't see you flinch in pain again if I can help it. Lean forward just a little bit."

"My hips hurt. And the ligaments—the healer said it was round ligament pain," Hermione said, then chuffed under her breath as Lucius began to gently rub her shoulders, then the knot that habitually formed between her shoulder blades. "Oh that's nice…"

"Good," Lucius said, then whispered, "_Calefacto_," and Hermione felt his hands warm up a bit as he moved down and pressed his thumbs in at her hips, his hands wrapping around to stroke and relax. He could feel her frustration ebbing away, and he sighed deeply.

"I did not keep you in the dark deliberately, Hermione. I want you to know that because it's important that you trust me. It wounds me to think that you don't." His voice was soft in her ear and he could feel her tense up again with his last statement, but he gently caressed her swollen stomach and continued. "This child trusts me implicitly. He knows my voice and when he is born, he will trust me to take care of him. You have to understand Hermione, Narcissa was a wonderful woman and a brilliant wife and mother, but she was never a frontline fighter. She would stand up for what she really loved, like Draco, but for everything else, she depended on me to guide our family through. And now she is gone, and I have you, my spirited young wife. And you _are_ a frontline fighter. You want to wade in and make it right, tackle the problem with your intellect and reasoning, and when that fails use your sheer bravado and bravery to get you through. And frankly, my darling, that scares the ever loving shit out of me; because I have seen so many others, braver even than you—and they fell. And I could not bear it if it were you, or our child."

"Lucius, I would never take unnecessary risks," Hermione said, tilting her head to look at him.

"I think our definitions of 'unnecessary' are very different, witch," he said, the soft actions of his hands belying the sting of the implied rebuke.

"Yes, they are, as long as you try to fix things without my input and without my help! I am not like Narcissa, Lucius—I do not want you to lead the way, I want to be part of the team solving the problem, finding the missing pieces. I'm good at it, it's part of my nature. And at every turn you have withheld information, or parceled it out in little bits to appease me instead of really bringing me to a full understanding of what you're doing. That's not trust, Lucius, it's condescension. I need you to tell me what you're trying to accomplish. Otherwise we are working at cross-purposes, such as the interview of Frederica Hayes."

Lucius' brow wrinkled and he took a deep breath. How to make her understand? Lucius pushed her away gently, tilting her shoulders so she shifted her body such that they were sitting at a close diagonal to each other and could look at each other's faces. "I will achieve freedom for the first time in nearly twenty-five years, Hermione. Finally there is a chance to get rid of the Ministry from our lives with one fell swoop—this child," he placed his hand firmly on her belly, "and the asinine, insane fools who call themselves 'Watchers' and threaten you. No overlord able to call forth service, and the right to tell them off if they dare—why would I _not_ fight tooth and nail, with every contrivance and slippery trick, to achieve that freedom? Is it not worth irritation, and hardship? I don't mind any of that, I will gladly pay the price, but don't tell me that you deserve to bear the burden, Hermione. I won't stand for it."

"But I'm part of your family, Lucius! And this is the future we gift to this little one—is that not worthy of my effort, of some burden-bearing? Draco had the cheek to lecture me on what it meant to be a part of the great Malfoy family—well I already know what it means to be a part of a family, Lucius. It means you put your family ahead of yourself, and you do whatever it takes to protect your family. I Obliviated my own parents to protect them, I can assure you, I know the price!" Hermione paused as tears swelled briefly in her eyes, but she refused to allow her emotions to swamp her again. "All I want, all I really _need_ is for you to talk to me. It really is that simple."

Lucius' eyes were almost back to clear grey, his anger having evaporated and his emotions calming. "You are clever enough to have worked out what I cannot talk to you about, witch."

Hermione sighed and twisted slightly at the waist, another grimace of discomfort crossing her features as she tried to find a comfortable position. "Yes, the unbreakable vow. I would have to be a dunce not to have that worked out, Lucius. I do find it more than a little disappointing that Harry chose not to tell me about it, merely dance around it."

"Lie down," Lucius ordered, then recommenced rubbing low around her belly. "We need some massage oil…" he paused and summoned the small bottle that appeared on the bedside table to his hands, applying some to his hands to warm it before applying them again to her skin. "Yes, he is becoming quite the Ministry pet. He'll be promoted for it shortly, I'm sure."

Hermione returned his smirk with a deadpan look of her own, but Lucius wasn't fazed. "Tell me I'm wrong."

Hermione said nothing, merely let his hands continue their massage. The baby had worked its foot or hand, she couldn't tell which, right above her hip, and was pushing back on Lucius' hand with each pass.

"Apparently the insolent bugger wants me to remove my hands from you. Not even born yet and already he wants all of your attention," Lucius quipped, leaning down to press a wet, open-mouthed kiss on the skin stretched over the little blighter's appendage.

"He OR she, it's a very inconsiderate child. I can't sleep through the night without needing to pee at least twice," Hermione said, watching Lucius place another wet kiss on her belly, her pajama top now worked up to bare her entire belly. He looked at her, and Hermione rolled her eyes. "You cannot make me believe you find me attractive. I look like a beached porpoise."

Lucius let his hands creep upward so that they were cupping her breasts gently. "Your body is lush and ripe with my child. You are perfection in feminine form, an absolute goddess of temptation. O Hera, wilt thou let me worship at your altar?"

"Get off me, you swine!" Hermione said with a laugh, and Lucius' eyes twinkled as he dipped his head and lavished attention with his tongue on her breast. Hermione's laughs soon changed to something else, and Lucius suckled hard on her nipple before he allowed it to pop out of his mouth, taking a moment to appreciate its dusky color.

"Delicious," he said, and began to insistently tug with his mouth on the other.

"Ow, that's too rough," Hermione protested, and Lucius soothed it with his tongue, then informed her, "I'm merely ensuring they are ready for the little fellow. He won't be as gentle as I!"

"Well you won't taste them again when they're 'in service', will you?" Hermione retorted, feeling a pleasant ache below her belly for a change.

"Oh, I don't know—I've always liked the taste of mother's milk," Lucius said naughtily, then stole a few languid, tongue lashing kisses before Hermione could tell him how shocked she was. He then made sure to sample her other delicate flavors, much to the moaned delight of his wife, who came quite beautifully with an abundance of lubrication that he soon put to good use.

"Oh god, it's too much! Lucius!" she moaned as he gripped her bum tightly, changing the angle of his penetration, just a bit deeper. "We're still arguing!"

"Consider this...the intermission. You're just—so beautiful!" Lucius said, feeling her body tightening again as he sweetly hit that one spot that made Hermione see stars and cry out his name in bliss. His own climax rushed through him and out of him, her body shamelessly milking him for every drop of his seed. He disengaged himself after a minute, then wordlessly scourgified them both, allowing Hermione to scooch back until he was spooned around her, his left arm draped over her ribcage, snug beneath her breasts. The air was somewhat clearer between them, but they were both spent in more ways than one. However, he didn't miss her softly whispered parting shot.

"I'm not done arguing with you," she whispered sleepily.

"We will pick right up in the morning," Lucius agreed, running his fingers through her hair and kissing her jaw.

"I've missed that," she said drowsily, pressing herself more firmly against him.

"What was that, witch?" Lucius asked, amused.

"Your hair tickling my shoulder. It's nice," Hermione said softly.

Lucius chuckled. "Good night, wife."


	31. Dim Whispers, Tremulous Replies

**Good afternoon! This is quite another hefty dose, but it could not be cut. A few review replies first:**

**Cyador, more follows here. Let me know what you think!**

**viola, more is uncovered here...just too much for one chapter!**

**KEZZ, what do you think of this then?**

**Alesia, your bungee jump analogy is great. I hope this chapter satisfies, in a good way.**

**zeeksmom, I laughed that you were so outraged at Molly and Arthur. Well, it is good intentions, but you know what they say about those! I think you'll like this chapter too.**

**RevQ, more Lucius/Hermione goodness afoot! **

**angstar, what say you to this emotional angst?**

**Okay, there is a lot being unpacked here. All of it matters, I just couldn't cut it down. I know what I ****_think_**** I'm conveying about Lucius, his views on marriage, and Hermione, and her views on marriage. Curious to hear your responses to this-so please, review! Thanks for reading!**

* * *

Hermione stirred, then uttered a soft '_Lumos_' to light the path to the unfamiliar bathroom. The waning moon provided scant light, and she stopped to take in the view briefly before she padded softly back to bed. It had snowed, a light dusting. It occurred to her that Christmas was fast approaching, and she had yet to do any Christmas shopping. Such a mundane joy to be lost in the midst of the hurricane around them.

She turned her attention to her husband, turning over what he had said earlier. Lucius was fast asleep on his stomach, his head turned toward her. He really was quite handsome, even if he wielded that as effectively as he used his wand. "Every contrivance, every slippery trick"…well, Hermione admitted to herself, she had already known he was like that. It was practically required for a Slytherin, and Lucius was the epitome of that House.

If she were being honest with herself—_which_, Hermione sternly told herself, _is the precise reason you are awake now, because you know you need to think about what he said_—she would admit that she was having trouble remembering that she was now the _point_ of his maneuverings, and not the target of them. As much as she wanted to think she had accepted that she was part of the Malfoy family, it was much harder to actually rely on Lucius (or Draco, or Astoria) more than her friends. She sighed and remembered what else he had said—that she had scared the shit out of him.

"What did you _really_ mean by that, Lucius?" she whispered to him quietly, but he slumbered on. She considered his hand as it rested on the pillow, stuffing another pillow behind her so she was slightly propped up. She loved his hands—strong and supple, just like the wizard himself. They were very masculine hands, capable of inflicting pleasure or pain.

It was this last that concerned her. She knew that he had done something to that would-be thief at the Manor. Since then, she had no idea what else he had done while in England or France, or wherever else he had gone. It worried her—not just the fact that he was capable of such ruthlessness, but that he did not hesitate to use it when he deemed it necessary. How could she love a man who could be violent like that?

"Knut for your thoughts," Lucius said quietly, and Hermione's gaze locked with his as she realized she had been stroking his hand absentmindedly. "Don't stop on my account," he added when she made to withdraw her hand.

"You scare me sometimes," Hermione whispered, part of her feeling like a fourteen year old again.

Lucius closed his eyes briefly, but clasped her hand. "Ah."

There was a wealth of meaning in that one syllable. His thumb stroked over her palm gently. "Tell me about it."

His tone was placid, his expression calm. It was impossible to see his eyes clearly in the dim light, but that was probably better. It gave her the courage to go on. "You can be incredibly ruthless, to the point that I wonder if you truly know where the line is—the line between right and wrong. And I thought I was past it—our history, the war—but then I know what you've done recently, like that burglar at the Manor, and who knows what else. So when you get angry, because I've done something that I view as asserting my right to participate in my own life, I worry that you'll be…that angry with me, step over that line," Hermione finished on a whisper, bravely keeping her eyes locked on his.

Lucius was stunned. From time to time he had wondered briefly if Hermione was afraid of him, but she had always gone toe to toe with him, refusing to give in to any fear she had. However, it was clearly hurting any effort to build trust between them. And, he admitted, it hurt.

"You are afraid I'll hurt you?" he asked gently, seeking clarification.

A brief expression of shock passed over her face. "No, not that—I'm not afraid of you hurting _me_ directly. But I am afraid of you taking matters into your own hands, and winding up back in Azkaban, or involved in something beyond you…"

"Of history repeating itself," he said, relieved, and she nodded and continued.

"I would be lying if I said you weren't horribly intimidating when you're upset, and that is frightening by itself. It does make me…consider my actions carefully. And to a certain extent, I am tired of that, the feeling of eggshell walking. It's…not been _easy_ giving up my independence, considering, well, your family's history and my family's…absence." Hermione thought again about the disconnect that had grown steadily between her life as a witch and her Muggle parents, such that she was able to tolerate not knowing what had happened to them.

There was another reference to her missing parents. Lucius made a mental note to inquire about that later, but right now he was concerned about not just getting, but _keeping_ them on the same page. Lucius interrupted her thoughts with his own.

"So, if you will allow me to rephrase: you feel as if I am dictating what you must do when I ask you to engage or not engage in certain behaviors, by not participating in a discussion with you or allowing you enough freedom?"

Hermione's brow furrowed and she huffed a bit. "I don't think that quite encapsulates it—I worry that if I don't do things your way, you will walk off that line, and it will cost us dearly. So it does color my actions, and I feel as if it shouldn't—if that makes sense. I think there should be more discussion, more give and take—and less of you just deciding what would be best."

Lucius relinquished his hold on her hand and propped his head up on his hand, waving his hand backward behind his head to turn on the wall sconce there. "What was your parents' marriage like, Hermione? I confess to having absolutely no idea what most Muggle marriages look like, but I think it will help tease out the difference in our perspectives—because from my point of view, you are asking me to give up one of the most fundamental duties I have as your husband, and the head of the family. So before we discuss what measures we can take to alleviate your feelings, I have to understand what you think our marriage should look like. We've danced around this topic before, but I don't think we've really gotten to the heart of the problem until now."

Hermione felt herself fall a little bit more in love with Lucius as he patiently tried to untangle the Gordian knot constricting them. Her eyes warmed involuntarily, and Lucius' softened in response as she began speaking. "They met and fell in love in dental school. They had been married for ten years when I was born, and I think it was a shock to them. They were very successful with their work, but everything at home ticked along because they each took care of various things—Dad mowed and took care of the garden, Mum did the laundry, they both took turns cooking, and they loved camping vacations. And I had absolutely no doubt that they loved each other very much, and they loved me. I had friends whose parents were divorced, but I never worried about that with my parents. They were just…a match, and you knew it when you observed them. It was right, it was comforting."

"And what about your extended family? What sort of familial obligations would be present?"

"Family birthdays for my grandmother, the holidays, that sort of thing. My grandmother was wonderful, but she had dementia and passed away a few years ago."

"But everyone just did as they pleased, living their own lives?" Lucius asked, and Hermione nodded.

"Of course. Everyone has to make their own way in the world, don't they? At least, in the Muggle world, to an extent."

"And did you ever feel that your father dictated to your mother things that would occur in your family?"

"No, of course not. My mother wouldn't have stood for it, and although they did have some rows in the end they were on the same page about most things."

Lucius was thoughtful. "And what is your impression of wizarding marriages?"

"They seem to be far more unbalanced, in terms of the power dynamics. Even the Weasleys—Molly defers to Arthur, and I've never quite understood why, but it obviously works for them. Yet it seems every wizarding marriage has that sort of misogyny, even if the witch is powerful in her own right. And I don't understand it. This world is so much better in some ways than the Muggle one, but so backwards in others."

"And you consider this more traditional approach to marriage to be backwards?"

There was a hint of censure in Lucius' tone which made Hermione just a bit irritated. "You don't have to remind me that I didn't grow up in this world, I remember it well enough every day, I assure you. I simply have trouble accepting that which I do not understand. Why are wizarding marriages set up that way?"

"I can only explain it the way my father explained it to me, as his father did before him. But, I would like to be a bit closer, if you please. I think we do better in close contact with one another. It prevents misunderstanding." Lucius reached for his wand and summoned extra pillows from the bench at the foot of the bed, then gestured toward the headboard. "A bit of transfiguration, do you mind?"

Hermione scooted down the bed, while Lucius reshaped the headboard to be more like a padded, highbacked bench, with curved, padded wings. It was smaller than the bed, sort of like a little coze, and Lucius tucked himself into one side and waved his hand at the other side.

"Where do I put my feet?" Hermione asked with a laugh as she jostled herself into her corner.

"Right here," Lucius said, pulling them into his lap. He had one foot pressed on the bed, his knee up, and his other leg was resting outside of hers. "Better, yes? I like to see you fully when we talk. Now, wizarding marriages are contracts, but their purpose is more than procreation. Through strategic marriages, as I've said, families were able to increase their holdings, their influence, and thus their survival. This is not dissimilar from old Muggle history, however, you have to realize that this system has continued to benefit the wizarding world while the Muggle one has diverged markedly. As you rightly note, powerful witches would be capable of exerting their own influences. And, because the wizarding community is a much smaller one, there quickly arises the question of divided loyalties, as conflicts are inevitable. Thus, what you characterize as misogyny is a very necessary practice to allow a woman to cleanly cut loyalties to her birth family if and when it is required that she do so. By preserving this traditional aspect to marriage, witches gain the freedom to pledge their loyalty to only one family."

"But then they must defer to their husband in all things? What sort of independence is that, really? It's exchanging one set of ties for another." Hermione knew that Lucius was of an older school of thought, but she really didn't think Ginny deferred to Harry in that way. However, she was smart enough to admit that she wasn't in the middle of her friends' marriages, so she really did not know the nitty gritty details of how they handled conflict and disagreements.

"What is your family but a set of ties? The difference is they are ties that you choose to continue, presumably because you love them. Married witches choose the ties that will bind them, and they accept the responsibilities that accompany that." Lucius could feel Hermione's magic shifting, and he massaged her foot carefully. She was entering the stage of pregnancy where magical outbursts were likely, and as important as this conversation was he had no desire to wind up hexed or burnt.

"What you call responsibilities I call subservience," Hermione said pointedly, then sighed as Lucius' hands stroked firmly downward on her foot. "What exactly does this cost the wizard? From here I don't see much that is different for you."

"In marrying you, I pledged my life to you," Lucius said earnestly, then dropped his head to place a kiss on the instep of her foot before shifting his hands to the other one. "That means quite a lot to a wizard, Hermione. It means I would do _anything_ in my power to protect you, and our children. I would stand up to anyone, _anyone_, who dared to threaten you. This is the reason that we refer to it as Bonding—because I am bonded to you, my magic is bound to yours. You felt it through my wand, the compatibility. It is also why so many purebloods are reluctant to wed a Muggleborn, because this is so fundamental to wizarding marriages, and it is a hard thing for Muggleborns to understand, given Muggle society these days."

"But isn't that sort of compatibility possible without you dictating, for lack of a better description, how things are handled concerning me, or our child? And without keeping secrets from me? If you'd only explain your reasoning, I might be happier acquiescing to your wishes, or we could figure out something that will make us both happy," Hermione said, trying to bend enough to still his hands on her foot, as pleasant as it was. Lucius took the hint and scooted a bit closer to her instead, placing his hands on top of their child.

"I am not accustomed to explaining myself to anyone, Hermione. I have been the head of the family for the better part of two decades, during which time I have been responsible for all family decisions. Narcissa was content, for the most part, to observe a submissive role, in part because of the danger of the times and in part because she had no wish to be responsible for the outcomes. She was uncomfortable with the responsibility of the results of decisions taken, and I was comfortable with it—had been raised to be comfortable with it. And as charmingly intellectual as you are, you still have blind spots regarding wizarding society and how pureblood families operate. Thus I have felt it is better for me to lead, and you to follow. It is not because I think you incapable of making good decisions, it is a reflection of how I feel best able to protect you."

"What about Voldemort? He tried to compel Draco to kill Dumbledore—how could you stand that, then, if your marital vows pledged you to protect them both? You must have known it would torture Draco." Hermione noticed that he still flinched ever so slightly whenever Voldemort's name was mentioned, a lingering proof of that wizard's effect on him.

"That was a very dangerous time for the Malfoy family. The Dark Lord was always dancing on the edge of powerful magicks, twisting and compelling them to his own ends. His experiment with marriage magicks produced the mess that was Rodolphus and Bellatrix's marriage, so you'll notice that he left most of the spouses of Death Eaters well enough alone. It was enough to secure one of the partnership to bring the family on board, so to speak. Draco found himself caught between my pledge to serve the Dark Lord and my marital pledge to protect my family. I was in Azkaban, and thus not able to do anything to prevent Draco from accepting the commission. This is where the wife holds power in her own right, Hermione. Narcissa compelled Severus to make an Unbreakable vow to protect Draco, and to finish the deed if Draco did not so as to prevent the Dark Lord's wrath being taken out on our son."

"Which Severus was fine making, as he had already promised Dumbledore that he would kill him himself rather than let a Death Eater do it," Hermione said, remembering what Harry had said about Snape's memories.

"Poor Severus. I fear he rather felt himself married to the whole wizarding world to atone for that one mistake," Lucius remarked, his eyes flicking back to Hermione's. "Much as I feel the weight of my mistakes. I have never apologized to you, witch, for my treatment of you for your birth. I hope you know how very much I regret it, knowing what I know now."

Hermione was intrigued to find out how Lucius had learned so much about genetics, but at the moment she was caught by the look in his eyes, begging forgiveness. He was so vulnerable, so unlike himself. She leaned forward as much as she was able, trying to touch his face, and he moved forward so they were in more of an embrace, her hand soft on his cheek and jaw. "Lucius, I forgave you long ago. I have known for a long time now that your slurs were more affectionate than insulting. You have respected me for too long now for me _not_ to forgive you."

"Why did you marry me, witch? The truth, now," Lucius said huskily, his eye color deepening to a darker grey. Hermione felt extremely vulnerable. More than sharing her body or her intellect, he was asking her to share her soul, her heart.

"You made me feel more. Everything was heightened when you were involved—work, your teasing and testing, sharp questions and sardonic wit, dancing through Ministry hoops as if you owned them and it had in fact been your idea to place them there—I was attracted to you," Hermione admitted. It seemed silly to disavow it as she had done then, but now they were so intimate, she had trouble sleeping when he wasn't with her.

"I believe you are dancing around the truth again, dearest. When I was appointed as the head of your division, I took charge. I kept you on your toes and didn't let you overextend yourself. I helped you focus your attention on what only you could do, and dealt with the rest. Is that not a form of partnership? The only difference is that I was in authority over you. And frankly, you liked that, because I could be the buffer between you and the distasteful things that come along with working at the Ministry. I could freely be a bastard because it was expected of me, and you were free to focus on your job. You no longer had to rely on Harry, who is frankly too self-effacing for his own good to trade heavily on his position. He merely wants 'normality', whatever that is, and you couldn't ask him to forsake that even when you felt the ugly tug of notoriety. 'He did it, so can I', you reasoned, but you are too intelligent to have left it at that. _You needed me_, Hermione, and you still need me." Lucius paused, his eyes raking her face. "And since we've been married, how have I made you feel?" Lucius asked, pressing for confirmation of what he read there.

Hermione's eyes were pleading, confused. "Please, Lucius."

"How, witch? How have I made you feel?"

"Safer," Hermione whispered, tears falling briefly. "I feel safer being married to you."

"And?" Lucius used a slight featherweight charm to scoot her bottom closer, her legs around his hips as his hands rested on the sides of her belly, their child sleeping through the emotional storm between its parents.

Hermione shook her head. It was too much to say, but Lucius, as ever, was ruthless in dismantling her walls. "Hermione, I could use Legilimency on you right now, and know what you refuse to say. But I don't have to, wife, because I already know it. You love me. You've loved me since I kicked your arse in that duel in my office, and you have fallen harder since we married. You love that I stand up to you, and that I won't let you do anything damn dangerous. You feel cherished because of it, and because you know I am a man of my word. I pledged myself to you, and I will keep that pledge. And that, my darling, is why you are having so much trouble—because you think your friends somehow have a different type of marriage than you do. But my pet, they are just the same. You are at the life stage where you should be rightly concerned with having and raising babies, and here you are, driving forward a highly controversial and dangerous research program. You are torn, my love, and I will put a stop to that—because that is what I need to do as your husband."

"You're wrong," Hermione said determinedly, ignoring the tears falling down her cheeks. "I would feel lost without my work, without something to keep my brain busy. I've always known that, I've never been interested in being a housewife or stay at home mom. It's not me," she insisted, placing her hands on top of Lucius' own. Lucius covered them and said,

"I did not mean to imply that you should stop your work. I meant what I told you on our honeymoon: you can continue working. I am merely pointing out that your viewpoint is changing, just as your body is changing. Or do you really want to tell me you can picture handing over this little one to Smidgen every day, then going off to work for eight or ten hours? You are already wondering how you can keep this up—and I am telling you, we will find a different way for you to do so. It will mean sacrifices, and I do not mean another Time Turner. Instead you will adjust your expectations of yourself, and I will adjust the expectations which the entire remainder of the wizarding world has of you, on your behalf."

"But if I don't solve the Squib problem, who will?" Hermione said. "I can't give up, or put it on the back-burner. Too many families are hurting from this."

"Which is worse, Hermione? Doing the right thing for the wrong reasons, or doing the wrong thing for the right reasons? You sacrificing yourself falls into the latter category, I assure you. You will have to learn to let more things go, to delegate more, to exercise patience as other wizards and witches learn as you learned. If my discussion with Dr. Hayes taught me nothing else, it is that this will not be cured tomorrow, or in six months, or possibly even six years. And that, my dear, is why the Marriage Law will prove to be a wise decision, and it is also why you should not feel guilty for admitting you cannot be all things to all people."

"You need to tell me exactly what she said," Hermione said, reminded that she was still annoyed that he had done the interview without her. "I barely had a chance to discuss anything with her, and I'm still pissed off that you talked to her without me!"

"I have copious notes and a transcription of what she said. But that is beside the point, wife. We are discussing the tendency of others to place unreasonable expectations on you, and your need to try to meet those expectations. It is not reasonable to expect you to fix everything, despite your magnificent talent and copious intellect. If nothing else, this Squib problem proves that. I want to hear you admit that, that you feel pressure from those expectations. It's part of why you were attracted to me."

"Why are you trying to make part of this mess into my personal problem?" Hermione asked. "It's not like I asked for the marriage law, or the ugly realities of the magical genome. And what you're suggesting is irresponsible, to pull back when so much needs to be done."

"This is precisely what I mean. Who is putting pressure on you? What would happen if you were dead, if Antonin Dolohov isn't so off in his aim next time and you die? What then? Will the wizarding world fade away to nothing because Hermione isn't there to solve the problem?"

"That is cruel, Lucius," Hermione retorted, involuntarily throwing off a stunning spell that Lucius waved off with a hand. He had learned to be very good at reading Narcissa's flares when she was pregnant with Draco. It seemed it was a skill that was equally necessary with Hermione.

"Sometimes I have to be cruel to be kind. Hermione, love, what am I trying to do here? I want to _protect you_. Even from yourself and your work ethic. Because I have learned the value of patience, and allowing time to work _for_ you, instead of struggling against it. You need help. You are also about to become a first time mother, and, setting aside the fact that a group of very nasty wizards and witches are trying to prematurely end your life, you have no one else other than me who even vaguely understands your work in the magical community. Frankly, my dear, I have no desire to work myself into an early grave after escaping it so narrowly within the past decade, and I certainly have no desire to see my new wife do so either. There is only one logical approach: allow others to learn. Train them. Teach them. Let them take part of the burden, and allow yourself to step back as the standard bearer for magical research. Without so much pressure on you, I predict you will achieve even greater things than you imagine are possible."

Hermione shook her head, her mind tumbling over everything Lucius had said. How could he do that so easily, just strip away all the reasons she gave herself for working so hard, for blindly pushing herself even when the likelihood was that the problem was too big for a single witch to solve?

"Why did you marry me, Lucius?" Hermione felt that Lucius had stripped enough of her layers bare, and despite a few tantalizing hints he had yet to say exactly what had compelled him. "You pursued me like a chess game, setting up the courtship ritual and practically stalking me for weeks before the matches came out. And even before then you were unnaturally interested in me."

"Ah," Lucius said, and Hermione rearranged herself so she was sitting sideways on his lap, her legs crooked up so his leg pressed nicely against her lower back. Lucius shifted his left hand beneath her hair and began to rub between her shoulders.

"Oh, that's nice—now spill, please," Hermione said. "Godric knows I've had quite enough of my psyche dissected by you. It's your turn."

"Charming," Lucius huffed, but he allowed her to place a soft, leisurely kiss on his lips. "It's a good thing they don't call these Houses of Rest," he quipped, casting a quick _Tempus_ to reveal that it was past 2 AM.

"Quit stalling. Why. Did. You. Marry. Me?" Hermione said, echoing Lucius' own punctuated speech when he was impatient.

"Yes, yes, I am coming to that…well, how to explain what drew me to your work, and then to you? Really, I must go back to the Battle of Hogwarts, because it was in those terrifying hours that I realized how utterly broken my entire life was, regardless of who won. At that point, I was desperate for him to lose, I hoped against hope that Potter would pull something unbelievable, defeat the greatest dark wizard since Grindelwald, as unbelievable as that sounded when he walked into our camp. When Narcissa grasped my hand so tightly as we made our way to the castle, I knew, somehow, that it was not over. Once the battle was raging again it was all we could do to find Draco. We were both wandless, we had to dodge all sorts of curses and jinxes. I recall Narcissa stumbled once, but that overwhelming need we both had to find Draco gave us a boost with our wandless magic. I don't recall any of the final battle between Harry and Voldemort, I simply recall finding Draco, grasping him tightly, the smell of his clothes, of him, holding him as Narcissa clung to him as well, and crying with relief. The rest remains a blur. Even the following weeks with shuffling between Ministry holding cells, the Manor, and court, I was just a broken man. I had seen too late how insidious and deceitful the doctrine I had espoused truly was, had come to the edge of the crumbling cliff and by some miracle had not toppled over. It was wildly frightening and humbling at once, and I did not even know how to process it. And then to have testimony from Potter at trial! I remember that being rather remarkable. But truly, I was lost. Lost to my recriminations, fighting to figure out who I was after my entire dogma was so thoroughly shaken, so thoroughly cracked that I had to ask myself, was there really anything to it?"

Lucius paused to take in Hermione's countenance. Her face was so open, her eyes calm and accepting, and Lucius found the impetus to go on.

"I couldn't tell you what Narcissa was going through. I was rather drawn into myself, the Ministry demands on us simply bothersome noise. Most of the hassle of dealing with them fell on her, so lost was I in myself. I believe Draco was going through a similar experience, as we would often spend an entire evening sitting in the library together, not saying a word. This went on for what seemed like years, with Narcissa coaxing and prodding us both until she finally got Draco to go out with Astoria, roused me enough to negotiate the marriage contract and see them married off. By that time, I had realized that I could not continue merely existing, but must make some strides toward recovering my former status. Even if such efforts were for naught, I had to prove to myself that I could make them, that I could find some semblance of who I was and regain myself.

"I believe it was at this point that Narcissa fell into a depression. I was meeting nothing but sneers and slights in my efforts, and the Ministry was unsure what to do with me. She had propped both of us up for so long, she had not dealt with her own emotions from the exceptionally brutal end to her birth family, nor from our extremely changed status. I tried to jolly her along, believing it was simply exhaustion from all the effort she had poured into me and Draco, but I realize now that she had simply burned herself out. I blamed myself for her death, for letting her go about her business. Deep down, I knew she was barely existing, I knew she needed more help than I could give her—but I let her go nonetheless, allowed myself the delusion of believing her protestations that she was fine, truly! I wish I could tell you that doesn't influence me when it comes to you, Hermione, but it does—oh it does!"

Hermione cupped his cheek in her palm, wordlessly wiping away the single tear that escaped with her thumb. Lucius clasped it and pressed a kiss into her palm, then brought her hand down to his lap, his eyes transfixing her with their intensity. "Why would I marry you? Why would I not, Hermione? Your work gave me a purpose other than a doting grandfather, and caretaker for a company that mostly runs itself. At first it was the prospect of proof, the final proof that my culture was fundamentally flawed, that drew me to the opportunity. I wanted peace, and silence from the family ghosts. And Kingsley was keen to offer—a chance at redemption. I attended lectures at Oxford, with the same Dr. Mullan who some arsehat has Imperiused, learning all I could about Muggle genetics and how they were studied. And I watched you spark and spar with me, so passionate and dedicated to your cause, and I saw a bit of my younger self in you. Oh my dear, if you take nothing else away from this night absolved from time and reality, please remember this: I know you, so well. You were infuriating and enchanting, so capable and yet so damn naïve. And by Salazar, I wanted you. I was shocked by it, I even tried denying it, but it was inescapable. You are so indescribably talented, Hermione. It's so beautiful, watching you use your magic, matching you in a duel or working alongside you. To feel it now, bound to me…I simply cannot tell you how much I love you."

"Lucius," Hermione said, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him into a fierce embrace which he turned into a passionate kiss. He made love to her mouth, causing white hot pleasure to flow through her veins. As she kissed him back, Hermione realized it had never been just sex to Lucius. He had always made love to her. When he ended the kiss and drew back, his swirling grey eyes hot with desire and love, Hermione looked at his marvelous mouth, then back at his eyes, softly saying, "I love you, Lucius. So much it scares me. I don't want to lose myself in our marriage."

"Where has all of your Gryffindor courage gone? Too afraid to love your husband?" Lucius teased warmly, drawing back to tuck her hair behind her left ear, then caress her cheek. Just like this, this is how he wanted to see her always—her eyes warm with love, her cheeks pinked, her full mouth blushed from his kisses. "That's not like my wife."

"This is not how I planned to fall in love," Hermione admitted. "It was supposed to be all hearts and flowers, not you sneaking me off my feet—my swollen feet, thanks to you!"

Lucius was unrepentant, arching a brow when he felt a kick underneath his hand. "I will never apologize for making you a mother, Hermione, although I would have wished the circumstances to be different. I would have liked time to be together as a couple before becoming parents together, so I could make love to you with wild abandon, irrespective of whatever else is going on."

"I wasn't aware that you hadn't done that anyway," Hermione said with a smile, and Lucius smirked mischievously.

"You have no idea how many times I wanted to disrupt the papers on your desk in a thoroughly lascivious manner," he said, his eyes flashing. "As it was, I had to settle for stealing documents and watch you get frustrated looking for them."

"You utter prat!" Hermione said, her mouth pursed indignantly, another wave of magic washing over her as she gesticulated. "Do you know how much time I wasted looking for those things, only to have them pop up in the oddest places?"

"Now, enough of that," Lucius said, waving the jinx away and catching her hands before she could do something else. "You can be annoyed with me later. Since we're both wide awake, I can think of better things to do than argue. I want to help you relax back into sleep."

"Oh?" Hermione felt another flare of magic, but this time she controlled it, flipping Lucius onto his back and straddling him. "And how exactly are you going to do that, pray tell?"

"I merely want to _relax_ you, love. You seem so tense," Lucius purred, his hand slipping easily between her legs and finding a wet, warm home.

"You are sinfully good with your hands," Hermione gasped, feeling a burst of heat flood her body. She was so sensitive now, the slightest touch set her off. She focused and ground down a bit with her hips, causing Lucius to sit up abruptly, vanishing their pajamas without a word and thumbing her nipple with one hand while the other continued to stroke.

"I was under the impression that you enjoyed my mouth even more," Lucius said silkily before he took her other nipple into his mouth, paying homage to her gloriously pregnant state.

"More, Lucius," Hermione demanded, one hand seeking him while her fingers threaded through his hair and tipped his head up to give him a hot kiss.

"Your wish is my command, dearest," Lucius said, filling her and placing his hands on her hips. "You set the pace. I want to watch you come while you ride me."

Hermione's body twisted deliciously inside. "I love it when you talk dirty to me," she whispered in his ear as he laved her throat.

"I know," he whispered back, biting her earlobe.

* * *

Hermione woke up to the rays of the weak winter sun caressing her face. She stretched and sat up slowly, unconcerned when the sheets fell away from her naked breasts.

"Mmmm," she murmured when Lucius stepped out of the bathroom with only a towel around his waist. "You look good enough to eat."

"Did you not get enough of that last night?" Lucius asked wickedly, sitting down easily next to her and running his fingers lightly along her collarbone. "Unfortunately, any further bedroom escapades will have to wait until we are back at the Manor. I'm afraid that that—" he pointed to the owl waiting outside the window, "—is likely to be a rather insistent request for our return. Due to the nature of this House, I could not be terribly specific in my reassurances to Draco about where we were last evening."

"Pity," Hermione said, then considered what likely awaited them at home. "Lucius, what are we going to do about the plotters, and work, and everything?"

"Well, pet, I think we will shortly be able to put a stop to the plots attacking you and your work. I promise to tell you everything alongside everyone else, but suffice it to say that Bertrand is firmly in our corner and he is working on it from France. As for the rest, we are agreed that our family and our marriage comes first, yes?"

Hermione agreed. "Of course it does, Lucius. We couldn't keep on as we were, pretending we didn't love each other, and trying to protect each other behind each other's backs! That clearly does not work."

"Just so. Therefore, we focus on you and I, fold everything back in on top of that, and decide together how to handle it, provided you accept that I will never willing allow you to place yourself or the baby in harm's way. And when all of this nastiness with the Ministry and attacks is behind us, we tell them all to fuck off."

Hermione laughed at that. "It's not that simple."

Lucius gave her one of his wicked grins. "Of course it is, love. You simply haven't learned how to do it yet."

Hermione shook her head wryly, but when they were dressed and standing before the Floo, ready to return home, she clasped Lucius' hand tighter in her own. At last, she felt like they were a fully united team.

"I love you, Lucius," she said before he could throw the Floo powder into the fireplace. It was easy to do here, just the two of them. She wondered how much it would show when they were back among their friends and family.

"And I love you, Hermione," Lucius replied, his eyes possessive but loving before he returned his attention to the fireplace. "Malfoy Manor!"


	32. Baiting the Hook

**Good afternoon! I want to post this quickly, this has been a very busy week IRL and I haven't re-read this for editing, so I apologize for any grammatical niggles in advance. **

**I LOVED the reviews to the last chapter! I am so glad you all liked it! It was a long time coming but I am glad so many of you found it worth the wait. **

**randomfan, so glad you are enjoying my portrayal of these characters!**

**Alesia G, yes, Lucius finally took the chance of being honest with his wife, and Hermione was honest enough to work through her feelings about his mixed past and behavior with him. What a payoff for both of them! Yay!**

**anerisa, thank you for the compliment on my different take on a Marriage Law fic. More to come about the 'bait' aspect-there are many layers there, and who is bait for whom? Keep reading!**

**RainynDawn, glad you found this story and are enjoying it! **

**Coven Mistress, Lucius Malfoy is deliciously fun to write. He is a pureblood snob, but everything that has happened has changed him in significant ways. It is fun to think about how he would demonstrate that but still be Lucius.**

**HarryPGinnyW4Eva, thanks for finding time to review again. Glad you enjoyed it!**

**zeeksmom, you got your payoff! At last! Hehe.**

**angstar54, what did you think of Chap. 31? It is important to see how Lucius cares for Hermione.**

**As an aside, I did get one anonymous review suggesting that I was "supporting misogyny" in the last chapter. First of all, misogyny is a loaded word that gets bandied about frequently, but I suspect many don't actually know what it means. Bearing in mind that I was aware of the loaded connotations of the term when I used it in the chapter, I suggest that this anonymous reviewer go back and re-read the chapter. Furthermore, I also suggest to this reader that I was writing LUCIUS MALFOY, the biggest pureblood snob/racist in the series, as he was talking about how ****_he was taught about marriage_**** by his father and grandfather. Hmmm, I wonder what ideas THEY put forward? Contrast that to Lucius' ****_actions_****, and you see a man who is still colored by his upbringing, but who is changed and still changing. Of course, I would have happily put that in a private message had you not chosen to leave an anonymous review, but since you didn't, here you go-if you are even still reading.**

**Which reminds me, I don't mind negative reviews-but people saying I, the author, am defending something or supporting something by writing in character is something I will not tolerate in reviews. Therefore, I exercised the right to delete it, for the first time ever. Say you don't like the characterization, or you think Lucius is an old-fashioned sexist, what have you, but don't project the characters' behavior back onto me as an author. I have chosen to write a "what if" about a very detested, 'evil' character from the HP series (God bless JKR for writing it, btw), and I'm not going to sugarcoat him or turn him into something he wasn't in canon. I am tweaking and asking, 'what if' several years after the events of the books-and I don't think it's realistic to say he would be 100% different.**

**Well, glad I got that off my chest. I apologize to you, that turned into a bit of a rant, LOL. Okay, without further ado, here's the next chapter. Lots of action in the chapter to come-oh boy, the roller coaster is about to dip again! Do let me know what you think is coming! Thank you for reading!**

* * *

When they stepped out of the Floo in the entrance hall, Hermione was surprised to see Kingsley Shacklebolt waiting, along with Draco and Harry. Kingsley looked irritated and Harry looked nervous, while Draco was definitely annoyed.

Lucius, however, took it in stride. "Oh look. Company."

The sharp syllables left no doubt as to his opinion of the visitors' presence, which caused Kingsley's eyes to harden briefly. If Lucius noticed, he paid it no mind. He snapped his fingers and removed Hermione's cloak in one seamless move, letting go of it with the expectation that Twigs would be there to take it, which he was. Lucius then removed his own cloak and took Hermione's hand again firmly in his own as he turned to address their guests. "While I am all agog to find out why you are waiting so eagerly for our return, you'll pardon us while we change our attire. A Scourgify only goes so far when spending the night away from home unexpectedly, wouldn't you agree?"

"Hermione—" Harry began, but Hermione walked by him without a word, heading up the stairs with Lucius.

"Draco, perhaps you could find Astoria and get her to show our guests to the parlor?" Lucius said, stopping and turning briefly on the stairs. Draco bowed curtly, aware that this was his opportunity to tell Lucius what the devil was going on. They could hear him instructing Twigs—"Show them to the parlor, Twigs. Myself or Astoria will be right in."

When they entered their bedroom, Hermione was struck by the scent of chocolate, and immediately perceived the crystal vase full of silver roses and chocolate vine on her nightstand. Lucius looked at her, a supercilious expression on his face, and Hermione walked over to the roses to find a note tucked therein. On it were two simple words: _Home today_.

"Oh," Hermione said, instantly feeling terrible.

"You were meant to receive them mid-morning," Lucius drawled as he drew up behind her, then took pity on her and drew her back into him, pressing a kiss on her temple. "I do miss those sleep shorts of yours."

"I'm sorry, Lucius," Hermione said, turning around to look at him.

"So you've said," Lucius replied drolly.

"You make me feel worse by being so magnanimous about it," Hermione muttered, and he chuckled and kissed the tip of her nose.

"I know." He walked away, serious about wanting to change clothes.

"Would it be too much to ask to come home to a peaceful, quiet house?" Hermione said with a sigh, stripping off her robes. At the moment all she wanted was to be comfortable, so she picked out a stretchy, long sleeved jersey top. She thought about a set of robes, but decided it was her home and she didn't give a crap what Lucius or anyone else thought of her Muggle attire.

"Anything I need to know before we find out why the Minister of Magic himself is waiting in our parlor?" Lucius asked as he swiftly withdrew his cravat and shucked off his pants, selecting a dark blue pair of trousers that were almost black.

Hermione was seeking her most comfortable pair of maternity lounge pants so her answer was half-muffled. "Um, it might have something to do with the fact that I asked Harry to bring Dr. Hayes' Muggle partner here? Or it could have something to do with the fertility potion, although that's rather unlikely…"

Lucius half growled as he pulled his head out of his closet. "I wish you had told me that _before_ we came home, wife."

Before Hermione could reply, Draco knocked at the door. "May I come in?"

"I'll change in the bathroom," Hermione said, sweeping out as Lucius doffed his shirt and waved a hand irritably at the wards on the door, which swung open silently to allow Draco to enter.

"Shacklebolt is ready to strangle Granger, Harry is after the potion you wanted him to have, and Astoria is attempting to distract Scorpius, who wrangled out of Firkin that you were home." Draco leaned against the closet door as Lucius finished buttoning up his white shirt, then turned the long cuffs down so they hung just so.

"I will deal with Shacklebolt. Hermione may give Harry the potion from the lab, if that is agreeable to her." Lucius missed Draco's stunned expression as he Summoned the dark green and navy waistcoat he had chosen, buttoning it before turning his attention to his fresh cravat.

"You've set the wards to allow her to enter the potions room? What about the experimental potions? They could contain dangerous ingredients for a pregnant woman."

Lucius gave Draco a condescending look. "Do you honestly think I would have left those about if there were a chance I would send Hermione in that room to retrieve something?"

Draco hated it when his father made him feel twelve again. "What about Shacklebolt? He's been pretty tight-lipped, but the gossip running is he is going to suspend her permanently."

"What?" Hermione shrieked as she came out of the bathroom, and Lucius muttered, "Merlin's beard, son, you could have said that _first_," then turned his attention to Hermione. "Sweet, we will handle it. Kingsley is running scared because I have not given him an update, and the public is riled after that character assassination in the paper. When I explain the current state of affairs, I'm sure he will make the correct decision."

"Your hairbrush," Hermione said, handing it to Lucius along with a new ribbon for his hair. Lucius walked away to the bathroom to complete his toilette while Hermione asked, "Who is the source of these rumors, Draco? There are way too many gossip streams in the Ministry, and some are better than others."

"Well I heard it from Yasmin, but apparently Jessamine Misselle is quite convinced that you're on the way out. I hear she's angling for a promotion." Draco was fascinated by the interplay between his father and Hermione, following her back into their bathroom and dressing area as they traded off at the counter. Lucius handed Hermione a clasp for her hair and Hermione passed him a pair of cufflinks, then caught Draco's eye in the mirror.

"Why would a girl of no account, not even from this country, think she should be in line for a promotion?" Hermione asked slowly, glancing over at Lucius.

"Because she thinks that flashing her tits at every department head every chance she gets will get her somewhere," Lucius replied, flicking his gaze to Draco again in the mirror. "Go inform our guests that we will be right down. And do tell me _you _haven't gotten into any scrapes in my absence."

"Nothing outside of my professional capacity," Draco said with a wink at Hermione. Internally she groaned—Harry must have asked him about the fertility potion, curse his hide! Lucius took it all in and drew her arm through his own, patting it.

"Don't worry, dear, I can brew a far better fertility potion for the Muggle than Draco. He's a bit too impatient with his flames."

Hermione laughed at this double entendre, a poke at Draco's fast and furious dating habits in school.

"If you're quite finished slagging me, Father, perhaps you should see to the Minister of Magic, before he finds something Dark lurking in the parlor," Draco replied, looking bored with the conversation.

"Right behind you. Perhaps you'd like to rescue Astoria before we arrive?"

It was a clear hint to leave him and Hermione alone, and Draco disapparated directly down.

"He is actually quite like you in some ways," Hermione said, referring to Draco.

"Is that actually a _compliment_ for my son? Will wonders never cease?" Lucius quipped, pulling her to a stop before they went downstairs. "Now, in all seriousness, we have not had a chance to discuss your career aspirations when all of this is finished. Suffice it to say, you are not thinking like a woman with unlimited Galleons at her disposal. Whatever Shacklebolt has to say to you, remember that."

"That is your money, Lucius. I am not going to use it to buy myself out of trouble," Hermione replied, and Lucius brushed a curl back from her shoulder, then kissed her near her ear.

"You are my _wife_. All I have is yours; and no one has the right to chastise you for your overenthusiastic sense of duty…except me, of course."

"Lucius," Hermione said, then kissed him soundly. "Stop dragging your feet. Let's get this over with."

When they entered the parlor, Kingsley Shacklebolt looked politely bored and Harry still looked as if he had sat on a cactus.

"Lucius, Hermione," Kingsley said, getting to his feet to greet them. "I trust we're all aware why I am here."

Draco and Astoria excused themselves swiftly, having no desire to be in the middle of a bollocking from the Minister of Magic, even if Draco was undeniably curious about the proceedings.

"You know, I may just take a look in that Weasley shop one of these days…I'm sure they have something appropriate for eavesdropping in the family home," Draco commented to Astoria as they went off to discover which of Scorpius' favorite play spots were occupied by their mischievous son.

"Other than a burning desire to hear about my trip, no, frankly I cannot fathom why you would grace us with your presence," Lucius said. "Coffee?"

"Why are you here, Harry?" Hermione asked, sitting down in an armchair while Lucius chose to remain standing beside her.

"Hermione, you created an international mess with Dr. Hayes, and while you were on suspension, no less! And you had the ill grace to drag Harry into one of your schemes—what on earth has gotten into you?" Kingsley said, addressing her directly.

"Perhaps I got tired of being bait for the 'Watchers'," Hermione shot back, and Kingsley exchanged a glance with Lucius, who raised an eyebrow as if to say, 'She's not stupid.'

"You weren't being used as bait, Hermione," Harry said. "I wouldn't agree to that kind of plan."

"You were and remain the target of the group, Hermione," Kingsley said. "We're all aware of that. However, their reasons for targeting you were unclear. At first it seemed that they were seeking revenge for the consequences of your work, but given the recent attacks on Muggle researchers, we now think they are attempting to kidnap you. However, the aim of whatever research they want you to do remains a mystery."

"We think they are attempting to create a Muggle breeding database," Lucius said, pulling up a chair so he could sit next to his wife.

"It seems the most likely scenario," Kingsley said, clearly displeased that Lucius had said that in front of Hermione, who picked up on it.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt, I don't give a damn if you are the Minister of Magic, if you don't stop treating me like a teenager and tell me what is swirling around me I _will_ hex you, Auror training or not!"

They could all feel her magic crackling dangerously, and Kingsley held up his hands to placate her. "Hermione, it's not possible for you to manage everything. You've had more than enough to do trying to get to the bottom of the genetics. It's not your job to manage threats and mitigate them."

Hermione was still greatly tempted to hex him, and Lucius gently took her hand in his and caressed her palm with his thumb. She took a deep breath and they could feel the air calming. Harry was dumbfounded but Kingsley took it all in stride.

"Never learned that little trick with Mrs. Potter, Harry?" Lucius asked superciliously. "Pity."

"Now, Lucius, please tell me that you've made progress in France. I need this to be settled once and for all, and soon." Kingsley's voice was somber and Hermione didn't miss the tired expression on Harry's face.

"What has happened?" Hermione said, addressing Harry.

"The Muggle Forensic Science Service has had their entire genetic database stolen—copied. We've weaseled that much out of Rowle. He won't give up any information about their plans, possibly because he was kept in the dark. Dolohov is not known for being a sharing individual." Harry set his jaw. "I wish I could capture that bastard."

"Forget capture. Kill him," Lucius said coldly.

"That's not exactly how we do things, Malfoy," Harry retorted, and Lucius sneered at him.

"You have enough evidence already to sentence him to the Kiss. Oh wait, we don't 'do that' any more. Instead we sit them in Azkaban to rot, and act surprised when someone manages to break them out." Lucius' disapproval was clear enough for all to read. "It would be better to go back to Dueling Standards at this rate. Cut him down and be done with it."

Hermione was not surprised by Lucius' opinion, but what did surprise her was her own mixed feelings on the subject. She couldn't look Harry in the eye as a consequence, and was grateful when Kingsley began to speak, the warmth of Lucius' strong hand holding hers a pleasant tonic for her muddled thoughts.

"Security measures are under review at Azkaban," Kingsley said, cutting into the argument. "I've received word this morning of several Muggle disappearances. Ordinary Muggles, apparently not connected to each other in any way."

"They are culling them," Hermione said, looking at Lucius. "You said this would happen."

"I made a logical supposition based on the mindset common to purebloods," Lucius corrected. "If Muggles are commodities, it makes sense to acquire the best ones for the benefit of your family interests."

"Not all purebloods," Kingsley said. "Now, assuming that is correct, we have a very limited time to contain the damage and stop all out war from breaking out between Muggles and wizards. My options are growing very limited, Lucius."

"Perhaps now you have a bit of appreciation for what I and others have lived with for the past several years," Lucius said, making a not-so-thinly veiled reference to the Unbreakable vow under which he operated at large in the wizarding world.

"The difference, Lucius, is that yours is a result of your own poor choices, whereas this constraint is being imposed on me by others' poor choices," Kingsley replied with an edge in his voice.

"Either they are trustworthy or they are not," Hermione said. "There is hardly middle ground on the subject of trustworthiness."

"Touché," Lucius said sardonically to Kingsley, then patted Hermione's knee. "He's simply doing his job, dear, and I shall do mine. Now, about my trip—my cousin is involved, but not the one we suspected."

"Explain," Kingsley asked, and Lucius went over what he had discovered with Bertrand while he was in France, Harry and Kingsley piping up with questions occasionally while Hermione listened. Most of what he said she had already guessed, but one part stuck out to her.

"Lucius, you said there is no sign of the Ministry mole from that side of the Channel. There must be a go-between, and it's not Cornelia Dextrose. She has been in hiding, and still information is being passed back and forth. If you shut down Bedell and manage to capture Dolohov, how will you determine who that is? They could simply lie low and start up again later, when everyone's guard is down."

"That is something which I need to discuss with you, Kingsley. Bertrand has an idea, which has the support of the French Ministry. I need your approval to make commitments on behalf of the British Ministry. It will require the Aurors to look the other way, when the time comes."

"What is the idea?" Harry asked. "Kingsley, I'll tell you now that no one pays any attention to Underwood, and Thicknesse is more of a caretaker. I doubt anyone will go along with this if it's coming from Lucius—no offense."

"Why bother being offended? I would expect nothing less from your jellybrained colleagues. _No offense_," Lucius replied in a condescending manner.

"Enough! Lucius, what is the plan?" Hermione could tell that Kingsley was getting annoyed, his hand fidgeting toward his wand. Given how patient Kingsley Shacklebolt was under most circumstances, that was very telling.

"In short, I am going to bait Bedell into showing himself—and we are deliberately going to let Dolohov get away."

"What?" Hermione cried, now getting irritated herself. "Absolutely unacceptable! I am not going to let you use yourself as bait when you've been protesting loud and long about me doing the same thing for the past few months!"

"Things are coming to a very nasty pinnacle, and it requires a risky move to bring it to a satisfactory ending," Lucius said, the set of his jaw displaying the strength of his feelings on the subject.

"Absolutely not," Hermione said, her magic swelling dangerously again as Harry said, "I think it might work," with a glance at Kingsley, who nodded.

"Ah—" Lucius began, but it was too late to stop her. He managed to block the stinging jinx, but Kingsley and Harry were not so lucky, and red splotches blossomed quickly on Harry's cheek and Kingsley's neck.

"This, gentlemen, is why you don't upset a seven months' pregnant witch," Lucius said. "Excuse us for a moment."

Hermione was furious with Harry for agreeing with Lucius' idea. Of course Kingsley would agree, he simply wanted the mess cleaned before it spilled even further into the Muggle world. She led the way to Lucius' study, whirling to face him as he closed the door. "What in the name of Godric Gryffindor do you think will make me agree with this asinine plan to bait your sneaky, manipulative, lying cousin with yourself, while letting Antonin Dolohov do God knows what and then swan off?"

Lucius batted away a stunner and then a jellylegs jinx, finally drawing his wand to block a _Furnunculus_. "That's enough, Hermione!" he said sharply, eyeing her with his wand at the ready. "I can appreciate that you are upset, but attempting to hex me with boils is hardly the way you treat the man you love."

"You're lucky that you waited until now to tell me this, or I would have tried to hex something else off last night!" Hermione retorted, and Lucius grinned, arrogant devil that he was.

"Believe me, I know that full well, wife," he said in what could be construed as an only slightly gloating manner.

"You!" Hermione began, but Lucius cast quickly, a calming spell that hit Hermione so fast she felt dizzy. Lucius helped her sit down in his desk chair, then propped one hip on the desk in front of her, his arms still on hers.

"Love, Bertrand and the French Ministry will be involved. There will be little danger, other than from death by astonishment from Bedell's sheer audacity."

Hermione forced herself to calm down, the baby's vigorous kicks reminding her that she was not exactly light on her feet, as tempting as a good duel with Lucius may have seemed at the moment. "I still don't like it, Lucius. How do you know that Bedell won't double-cross any meeting you arrange, be it accidental or otherwise? He's been impersonating Bertrand, and you have no idea what kind of contacts he's cultivated in the French Ministry as well! There are too many unknowns to make it a safe proposition."

"That is why I said it was risky, Hermione. But it is a risk that is worth taking, if it brings all of this to a conclusion. We both agreed that things cannot continue as they are. Let's be brave enough to push for the end."

Lucius had taken her hand again, and now he pressed his own wand into it. "Hex me if you wish, but this is what I believe is best—and by every trick or stratagem, I will seek to achieve it. I would prefer, however, to have your support."

"How dare you give me an ultimatum like that?" Hermione said, feeling her magic surge again. However, the feel of Lucius' magic meshing with her own through his wand gave her pause. "You are so manipulative," she hissed, already knowing she would acquiesce, as had he the second he'd pressed his wand into her hand.

"Slytherin, love," Lucius said, drawing his other hand down her cheek and caressing her bottom lip with his thumb. "Go ahead, give me the conditions under which you will accept this 'travesty' of a plan—which you are going to do, because you cannot think of a better one."

"All right," Hermione said, but caught his hand on her cheek. "But I will never forgive you if something happens to you, Lucius."

"Duly noted," Lucius said dryly.

"One, you will take my wand instead of your own. I can amend my invisibility spell on it, so you can keep it invisible at all times. It will give you a minute advantage if you need it. Second, you contact me every day. Third, if I don't hear from you, I'm coming after you. Do we understand one another?"

"Yes, pet. Too well, I fear." The snark was overridden by the admiring gleam in his eye, and Hermione pulled him down for a quick kiss.

"Now, let's get rid of our company, please. If you're going back to France I want some time for us, alone."

"Naturally."

In three minutes they were bidding a satisfied Kingsley goodbye, although he kept casting wary glances in Hermione's direction. Harry remained after Lucius said, "Now, Potter, about that potion you needed for Rowle—" and took Harry off to the potions lab.

Hermione had just called Smidgeon to ask for some digestive biscuits and tea when Scorpius came tearing into the room.

"Where's Poppa?"

"He's in his potions room and not to be disturbed," Hermione said, then added when she saw his crestfallen face, "But he wants to see you when he's done with business."

"I can't wait to see him!" Scorpius said, then hid behind Hermione's chair when Astoria walked into the room.

"Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy! It is bad manners to barge into a room uninvited!"

"I just want to see Poppa," Scorpius wheedled, and Astoria folded her arms across her chest.

"That is _not_ the way to go about it, young man."

"What is all this?" Lucius asked as he returned, having seen off Potter through the Floo.

Scorpius dashed out from the chair and hugged Lucius' legs.

"Did you bring me a present?" Scorpius asked.

"No, pet." Lucius said, ignoring the boy's frown for now.

"What happened?" Astoria asked Lucius while keeping an eye on Scorpius, who was sneaking toward Lucius' crystal decanter of firewhiskey since he was annoyed to be ignored. The boy was far too entranced by the flames, but she sent a very mild stunning spell at him before he could pull the container down. "I told you no," she said firmly as Scorpius' lip protruded and his eyes filled with fat tears.

"Twigs!" Lucius snapped, and the house elf popped into view. "Get Firkin to take Scorpius out to the greenhouses. He can play exploding snap."

"Yes, master," the elf bowed and held his arms out for the toddler, who realized fun was to be had and let the elf take him, pulling on his long ears as Twigs disapparated them both.

"I'll be returning to France tomorrow," Lucius said as Draco entered the room. "I'll fill you in later," he said to Draco. "There are a few family concerns that you particularly ought to be aware of."

"Oh joy," Draco said drolly.

"Just be thankful Thérèse isn't coming over here," Lucius said, then turned his attention to Hermione, who was thanking Smidgen for her tea tray. "What a nice idea. What say you to brunch in bed?"

"Delighted," Hermione said, and Lucius smirked at his son and daughter-in-law before disapparating himself and his wife to their bedroom.

"At least they will stop that once the baby arrives," Draco scowled.

"Hmmmm," Astoria said. "Perhaps you're just jealous."

"Perhaps I am!" Draco retorted. "My father is twice my age and getting twice as much sex, apparently!"

"Well you could always imitate his tricks, you know," Astoria snarked.

"I believe I will!" Draco said, pulling her to him with a shriek and disapparating them as well.

It is a fortunate thing that young Scorpius was so fond of exploding Snap, else he would have gotten into quite a bit of hot water if he had disturbed his parents in the next hour.


	33. Pushed

"Are you ready to go then Granger?" Draco stuck his head around the door to the breakfast room, where Hermione was finishing the quiche the elves had baked for her when she happened to mention to Smidgen that she had a craving for cheese and eggs.

"Yes," Hermione said. "Just one minute."

Draco rolled his eyes as Hermione's eyes were fixed on the open French doors, and sure enough a large owl flew in, a scroll attached to its leg.

"Thank you," Hermione said politely, then unrolled the parchment to read the brief note from his father, a flood of color hitting her cheeks.

"You know I'm gagging here, right?" Draco said impatiently, and Hermione tucked the scroll into her pocket.

"You just hate being reminded that I'm your father's lover as well as his wife," Hermione snarked, and Draco made choking noises.

"Really, just after breakfast is too much. Now get your arse waddling, or I'll deal with the Muggle without you."

"I do not waddle!" she replied indignantly, and Draco just ushered her along. He'd give her that she wasn't fat, but she was definitely not as slimly elegant as Astoria had been when she was pregnant with Scorpius.

"Come on, come on, you don't want the Auror shift to change before she's due for her Obliviation."

At this reminder that they were doing something just a bit sneaky, Hermione hurried up and let Draco take her arm to step into the Floo. After the wrong Floo trip with Lucius, she realized it was one of those unconscious protective gestures that the Malfoy men couldn't seem to help doing unless they were deliberately trying to insult you.

"St. Mungo's, Draco Malfoy's office," Draco called with boredom, and they stepped through into his office.

"Harry said he would be on duty, I hope there haven't been any last minute changes," Hermione fretted.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Granger. I'm the one performing the Obliviate on both of them, so even if it's not Harry, I'll get the potion to them."

"I thought you weren't interested in hearing about my knickers," Hermione quipped, and Draco rolled his eyes again.

"Were you _always_ this annoying in school, or am I only now just noticing because of the enforced proximity?"

"This is a special treat for you, to get you back for being so horribly nasty to me for all those years," Hermione replied.

"God, I hate myself. If I had known this was coming, I would have said fuck all to you in school!"

Thankfully they arrived at Frederica Hayes' room, Harry at the door.

"Thanks for doing this, Draco," Harry said sincerely.

"Well I'd hate to think what a fertility potion _you_ brewed would be like," Draco said, then took the opportunity to get a bit of his own back. "You could have just asked me directly Granger."

"I know. I'm sorry, I'll remember next time," Hermione said, feeling bad for assuming Draco wouldn't be interested in helping two Muggles.

"What, planning to make a habit of feeding magical potions to Muggles, are we?" Draco said with an eyebrow raised.

"Of course not!"

"Better hurry up. The Americans are due to pick them up in ten minutes, and I distracted Sloane by sending him for some coffees," Harry said warningly. Harry's Hufflepuff partner was a solid if stodgy wizard, but he had an unbreakable sense of ethics and they certainly didn't need him around for this.

"We'll be quick," Draco assured Harry, letting Hermione into the room first before he closed the door.

"So today is it, huh? No more floating teapots and curious noises from the hall." Hermione shook the hand of the slim brunette who was sitting by Dr. Hayes' bedside.

"I'm afraid so Katy," Hermione said apologetically. "But I wanted to say thank you, to both of you. Getting a look at the data and your experimental protocols helps us enormously. You will never know how grateful we are again, so let me express it now—we owe you."

"Well once I got to speak to her on the phone, she was pretty clear on what she wanted me to bring," Katy said. "Fortunately we have back-ups of everything at home, so I didn't have to go into the lab and deal with any questions."

"Katy was laying odds on who was going to go first—I said me, and she said herself. I'll warn you there is a large quantity of beer on the line here, so, who's it to be?" They all knew that any score-keeping wouldn't be possible, but the scientist had resigned herself to the inevitable. She looked far better, her ease with the situation improving immensely once Harry had cut through all the red tape and gotten her partner to her side.

"It will be you first, Dr. Hayes. And thank you." Hermione clasped the woman's hand, then gave her an awkward hug.

"It is nice to have known for a little while that magic actually does exist," Dr. Hayes said with a touch of regret, then Draco aimed his wand at her.

"This won't hurt," he promised, and with quick precision, she was done.

"Is she okay?" Katy asked, looking at her partner, who was looking around in a daze.

"She'll be fine. Now, Katy, we have something for you," Hermione began, but Draco cut her off.

"We have ways of ensuring pregnancy," he said briskly. "This is a potion you need to give your partner before you try again to have a child. With this potion, it will absolutely work, and you will have another child, regardless of any difficulties before."

"Are you kidding me?" Katy said in disbelief, shock and gratitude scrawling across her face.

"No. I will give you instructions on what to do when I give you the spell, and instruct you in concealing it as well. And, I would recommend trying again as soon as you can. Potions like this won't keep forever."

"Thank you!" Katy said, throwing her arms around Draco impulsively, who stiffened instantly, causing her to pull back. "Sorry."

"It's fine," he said brusquely, again directing his wand. "Now—"

Hermione and Draco slipped quickly from the room, leaving the Obliviated pair to work out that they were in a hospital room, and process the false memories Draco had created of a conference, a terrible car accident, and a miscarriage.

"Do you suppose they'll use it?" Hermione asked quietly as Draco moved her down the hall toward his office Floo.

"I didn't give her much in the way of wriggle room," Draco said.

"True," Hermione replied. "I don't suppose there's been any change in Ron's condition?" Her voice sounded more sad than hopeful, and Draco just shook his head.

"No. But he's still stable."

The Americans were prompt, arriving just after Draco and Hermione left, and just as Sloane came back with the coffees. Harry let them into the room. And just like that, Katy Price and Frederica Hayes were once again unaware of the existence of the magical community. The American Aurors, under the guise of Muggle medical professionals, transported them in an ambulance magicked into a portkey to a stateside Muggle hospital. And all the while, Katy Price had a vial of potion secreted in her inner jacket pocket, and a vague sense that maybe it was best to try again quickly for that baby…

* * *

It had been four days and finally, finally things were starting to line up to move things along. Lucius and Bertrand were waiting for Bedell outside of his nominative office, although anyone who knew Bedell knew that he did nothing resembling work.

"Your mistress was rather cooperative, all things considered," Lucius observed as they waited for Bedell to show up.

"She could see which way the wind was blowing, and thought Bedell could offer more, _opportunities for advancement_, shall we say," Bertrand replied. "Fortunately the French Aurors are a bit more creative in their interrogations than their British contemporaries. She was ready to sing like a little bird when they lifted that curse."

Lucius thought not for the first time that it was quite French to run either hot with anger or cold with indifference, but he kept that observation to himself.

"And was Thérèse cooperative when you sought her assistance with the château?"

Bertrand snorted. "She was insistent that blood not be spilt on the carpets. Apparently, a Scourgify just cannot remove all traces of 'those stains'."

"She would know," Lucius muttered darkly. "She has some cheek to complain about such things after she outright poisoned her first husband. Caused quite a mess when he fell on a lit candelabra and crashed through the dining room table."

"It was never proven," Bertrand said, a sly grin stealing across his face.

"Pfff, as if there were any doubt within the family. Notwithstanding that he was a rank bastard, she could have chosen something less dramatic, or at least give it more the appearance of an accident."

"Bah, she is à bon chat. She rid the world of a disgrace of a wizard and has been fêted for it since. Ah, there he is, the rat. Time to play a bit of cat and mouse." Bertrand straightened up and stubbed out his cigarette, a habit that Lucius had always found very Muggle.

The plan was relatively simple, but it relied on getting Bedell into the right spot, both physically and psychologically. Thanks to the mistress singing like a canary, the French Ministry had planted an anxiety potion in Bedell's breakfast, which he habitually took at a small café near his Parisian address. The evidence of it was apparent, as Bedell was looking around anxiously and his hand shook as he undid the wards on the office where he pretended to work.

"I shall go poke him. So depressing, that my own brother has _nostalgie de la boue_."

The irony of Bertrand's perception was not lost on either of them, and Bertrand slid a sly grin at Lucius. "But of course, your mud is nicer, no?"

"_Non sans droict_," Lucius replied, and Bertrand whipped out his wand and saluted him.

"You have done well of your _mariage de convenance_," Bertrand said, but his attention was fixed elsewhere. Lucius knew his cousin was preparing himself mentally to do what was necessary, and he sat back again to wait for a few minutes as Bertrand disapparated soundlessly, reappearing in Bedell's office with a loud crack.

It was not hard to imagine what Bertrand was doing to Bedell. Although he was tolerant of the draw on his company, Bertrand did expect Bedell to do a nominal amount of work for the privilege of his hefty salary. Given Bedell's extracurricular activities of late, it was hardly shocking that Bedell had conveniently forgotten the miniscule tasks Bertrand expected him to complete. It should be easy enough to push him over the edge. Once Bertrand used his wand, that would be it.

Lucius saw a bright purple flash that indicated it was time to make his presence known. He disapparated into the office easily, saw the flash of shock on Bedell's face when he realized there was more going on here than the standard bollocking from Bertrand.

"You've been a naughty boy, Bedell," Lucius said, attempting to stun him after throwing a few distracting hexes.

Whether it was training that the indolent Bedell had neglected heretofore, or the anxiety potion manifesting as desperation, Bedell was holding them both off. Lucius, however, had a portkey in his pocket, charmed to take them directly to the French Ministry's holding cells. He was close enough to grab his cousin, and saw an opportunity as Bedell threw a curse at his brother. Lucius activated the portkey and laid a hand on Bedell just as he saw the bright blue glow in Bedell's left hand as he activated another portkey.

Having a split second to decide whether to let go of him, drop his own portkey, or risk being Splinched to death, Lucius made a choice and vanished, the French Ministry's ring glowing a bright blue for a second in front of Bertrand's eyes on the floor before it disappeared as easily as had his cousin and his brother.

* * *

"Why did Poppa have to go again?" Scorpius whined the next morning.

"Because he had more work to do," Astoria said patiently. She had hoped Hermione would be willing to play with him for a few hours so she could go Christmas shopping, but as yet there was no owl from Lucius and Astoria could tell it was grating on Hermione's nerves.

"Broom?" Scorpius asked hopefully, looking at Hermione and holding up his fork.

"Not today, sweetheart," Hermione said, feeling Bump give her a vigorous kick. It was silly, but somehow having a nickname attached to the baby made it more real for her, a little person she couldn't wait to meet. She and Lucius had yet to pick a name for a girl, but he had picked a boy's name that Hermione actually found rather pleasing. It was definitely a wizarding choice, but at least it wasn't a constellation.

"What work do you have on your agenda today?" Astoria asked, sending the fork whizzing around the table to please Scorpius.

"I have a Floo call to discuss some niffler experiments that would give me some more information about the suspected regulatory region, at least give me a hint as to which other pathways are affected," Hermione said, but her mind was still chewing over the lack of an owl from Lucius. "He would have told Bertrand to let me know if something went wrong, wouldn't he?"

Astoria gave a mental sigh. "Yes, I'm sure he would, Hermione, especially after the last time he went incommunicado. Lucius is not the type of man to make the same mistake twice."

"That's what I think too," Hermione said, chewing on a hangnail, a horrible breech of manners and a reflection of her absentmindedness.

"Would you like to come out to the orangery with me? I was going to see what citrus is available for some special Christmas puddings," Astoria offered, unsurprised when Hermione declined.

"No thank you, I have to do some reading to get ready for my meeting."

"Of course. Scorpius, don't try to transfigure the spoon, you're far too young to be messing up the silver quite yet. Come along, young man."

Scorpius hopped down from his chair with a scowl, but Hermione hardly noticed them leave. Four days he'd been gone, and he'd been so prompt in sending owls. They always arrived during breakfast. Always. Bump gave her another kick, and Hermione realized she could not sit idly waiting forever.

"Right, I'll set a timer. If I haven't gotten that owl by then, I'll call Draco," she said to herself, then set her wand to spark and buzz when an hour had passed.

Resolved, she spent fifteen minutes wrestling uselessly with her notes and reviewing what she wanted to say in her meeting, then gave up and put the notes away. It did little good to stare at the transcription of Dr. Hayes' interview in Lucius' hand, her own notes added on the sides when she talked to her in the hospital. A walk, that was the thing. The gallery, perhaps. Hermione ignored the ancestral portraits that sneered at her, a Silencing charm in place for years to come. There were beautiful works of art up here: sculptures by Wizard and Muggle masters (the latter a shock to her system when she discovered them), and beautiful, moving landscapes of Wiltshire, the Lake Country in Derbyshire, the rugged Cornish coast, the beautiful hills of Provence.

She checked her wand again, called Twigs.

"Have any owls arrived, Twigs?"

"No mistress, I very prompt to tell you if owl comes," he said with all the gravity he could muster.

"That will be all Twigs," she said, tapping her wand anxiously against her thigh. Something was not right. Lucius _knew_ how important this was to her, it was not something he would just ignore without cause!

"Right," Hermione said, then walked back downstairs to the Floo in Lucius' study.

"Healer Malfoy's office, St. Mungo's," she called clearly, then stuck her head in the flames.

"Sweet Salazar, woman, don't you know it's too early in the workday to be petrifying me with your paranoia?" Draco said, although Hermione noted that he didn't tell her to fuck off straightaway.

"I'm not being paranoid, and your father is in trouble," Hermione said with conviction.

"Jesus, Granger, can you give it a rest? I'm sure he's _fine_," Draco said, but he already knew what she was going to say.

"You can call him, with your ring. I've seen Lucius do the same to you. I want a look at that ring, please."

"Fuck," Draco muttered, but he flicked his wand at his door to indicate he was out, then said curtly, "Step back, I'm coming through."

Hermione barely had time to get awkwardly to her feet again and get out of the way before Draco stepped through, brushing soot from his jacket with impatience. "Listen, Hermione, I understand that you're worried, but this isn't exactly the fucking owl post. It's meant to be used only in emergencies."

"I know that," Hermione said defensively. "But I also know that Lucius would not break a pattern that was very important to me, that we agreed on before he left. So just tell me—would Bertrand contact us if something went wrong? Or would he wait until it's too late to do anything to seek you out?"

Draco's expression lost some of its irritation. "Honestly, I don't know, Granger. He's not exactly one of my closest relatives, and since I'm just his first cousin once removed it's not like I've popped over for croissants on a regular basis. I just know that my dad trusts him when it comes to family matters, and this type of thing would certainly be considered family business."

"If you were to call him with the ring, what would it do?" Hermione asked, and Draco had noticed that she had her wand at her side.

"It would heat up, hot enough not to ignore, but not hot enough to burn," Draco said, drawing his own wand.

"And is it detectable as a magical outlay? Does it give off any type of signature?" Hermione asked.

"No idea," Draco said. "I wouldn't want to risk my father's life on it."

"Neither would I," Hermione said. "However, I think it could help. I think we should go to France."

"What? Are you kidding me?" Draco was dumbfounded, but Hermione held up her hand to shut him up.

"Perfectly serious. We need to talk to Bertrand, and failing that, talk to Thérèse. One of them should be able to tell us what is going on." Hermione's expression was determined, and Draco rubbed his hand on his face.

"Look—"

"No, _you_ look. I KNOW that Lucius told you this might happen, and furthermore, that he told you to _help me_, not hinder me. So either hand over that ring and get out of the way, or go tell Astoria where we are going, because I'm heading off in five minutes via portkey and I don't give a damn whether or not you come with me." At that, Hermione grabbed a ceramic figure from the mantelpiece and turned it into a portkey to their French house.

"Fine, fine! TWIGS!" Draco bellowed, then disapparated with a pop to tell Astoria where they were going, and furthermore to contact Harry Potter urgently and tell him to get the fuck in touch with French Ministry for fuck's sake!

Less than a minute to go when Draco popped back into the study.

"Not a word, Granger," he barked as he took a firm grip on the other end of the figurine. "What the fuck is this anyway? A shepherdess?"

"It's Demeter, the Greek goddess of the harvest!" Hermione said, as if anyone would know that.

"Why didn't I know that?" Draco said sarcastically, but before Hermione could reply there was a tug in her navel and they were both spun out, tumbling on their feet into the foyer of the house in France.

"Now what do you suggest, Sherlock?" Draco asked sarcastically.

"Don't you know where Bertrand lives?"

"Why the fuck would I know that? I've sent him a few owls and been side-alonged to his house. I don't have the foggiest clue where the fuck he lives!"

"Shit. That leaves one option, then," Hermione said through gritted teeth. "You'd better prepare for some fireworks, Malfoy!"

So saying, Hermione gripped Draco's elbow and focused on her destination. As Draco turned his head to yell at her, he realized where they were standing: the steps to his great, great aunt Thérèse's house.

"You're fucking insane," Draco said as she pounded loudly on the door. In short order, a fat house elf answered the door, looking down his squat nose at them.

"The mistress of this house only receives appointments on Fridays and Tuesdays," Iribe said, then made to close the door.

"Oh no you don't! _Imperio!_"

"Fuck me, Granger, did you just use an Unforgivable?"

"Shut up, Draco. Take me to her, NOW." Hermione's tone brooked no disagreement, and the house elf nodded as if in a daze and trotted through the halls, leading them toward a bright room that was apparently hosting breakfast. The witch they were seeking sat at a long oval table, the French doors banking the wall thrown open to the countryside. The nightjar was perched on the silver coffee service, Hermione noted, then waited for the house elf to announce them.

"Mistress, visitors," Iribe said, as if proud of his achievement. The newspaper that Thérèse had been reading folded down with a snap, and her eyes narrowed minutely before she said, "You! What the hell are you doing here, and putting my house elf under the Imperius curse to boot?"

"I am here to find out where Bedell has his little hidey hole. The place he runs to when he's in trouble, with his tail tucked between his legs like a good cur," Hermione said, flicking her wand and ending the Imperius curse, then darting a deadly look at the elf when he made to grab hold of her. "Touch me and it will be the last thing you ever do."

"Why are you here with her?" Thérèse demanded, looking at her great-great-nephew.

"We have reason to believe that my father might need some assistance," Draco said, attempting to be somewhat conciliatory, although he suspected his inheritance had just been shot to hell.

"Reason to believe my arse," Thérèse said. "I don't bargain with little girls and sniveling boys. Go away before I really give you something to cry about, little girl."

Draco might not claim to know Granger very well, but he knew that at this point in time, it was not a good idea to piss her off.

"I don't think so," Hermione said, quietly, then her wand flew, disarming Thérèse and strapping her to her chair with two moves that were rapid enough to be worthy of Lucius. "_Where is he?_"

"I haven't any intention of helping you, you ill-mannered, trollish, Mudblood whore," Thérèse answered, and Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"Fine, we'll do this the hard way." She looked around the room, and pointed her wand before Draco or Thérèse could realize what she was aiming at. "_Avada kedavra_."

Thérèse jerked as her nightjar dropped dead from its perch, and then let out a high, keening wail. "You killed Harriet! Do you have any idea how long it took me to train that bird? How irreplaceable she was?"

"I know you have more," Hermione said with deadly venom. "I'll kill the rest, have Iribe fetch them like a good little elf if you don't tell me what I want to know. Now." Another flick of her wand had the house elf again under the Imperius, his eyes glazing over.

"How dare you! I'll have you arrested! I'll see you imprisoned for this!" Thérèse's chest heaved in agitation, and Draco folded his arms across his chest, his wand dangling from his hand. He was beginning to enjoy this little show.

"I'd cooperate if I were you, Thérèse. Else she is going to put you under the Imperius next. I hear she's a dab hand with it—you recall that nasty break in at Gringotts, don't you?" His smile was sweet and pointed, and Thérèse huffed and was silent for a full minute before she finally said,

"I can't tell you where it is. I would have to show you. Somewhere in Norway, that's all I know—but I have been there."

Hermione grasped the older woman's wand in her hand. "Fine. But you do anything, I snap this. You get us inside the property, and you are free to go back home. Are we clear?"

"Fine," Thérèse said, but Draco stopped Granger.

"A wizarding vow, I think. Unbreakable, let's say," he said smoothly, and he saw the murderous tick in his great-great-aunt's eye.

"You weren't getting anything, you know. You're too spineless," she hissed.

"Apparently not," Draco said grimly, then held his wand at the ready as Hermione clasped the old bat's arm with her own.


	34. The Fourth Unforgivable

**Ok, here's the next installment! It's flying now, hope I have time to finish up within a few days. **

**Guest 1-love the matryoshka doll comment! Glad you like the layers!**

**Guest 2-Hermione was pretty bad-ass in that chapter, wasn't she?**

**tiachutis, I hope you've persevered.**

**viola, Hermione had to have her moment with Therese. Really required, I think!**

**Alesia G, wait until you see what happens now. Love the idea of Astoria as assistant to Hermione!**

**zeeksmom, you are too right about learning the lesson of never underestimate! Ouch...read on!**

**All right, I will try not to leave you hanging too long for the next installment. Busy day tomorrow so we shall see! Hope all who have a holiday weekend will enjoy it! And please, hit that review button! It's my birthday weekend so a lot of reviews would be an awesome present! Thank you!**

* * *

Lucius was prepared for the lurch as they arrived at Bedell's refuge of choice, but he didn't have much time to study it as Bedell was throwing hexes at him left, right, and center. While the anxiety potion had made him quicker, he was less accurate, and that was an advantage that Lucius would not hesitate to press. Hermione's wand was a bit more flexible than his own, giving his spells a whipcrack at the end that he found he quite liked.

"Did you honestly think that we wouldn't find you out?" Lucius said as he exchanged hexes with his cousin. He blew off a burning curse, then deflected a nasty ulcerating hex as he sent his own darker spells toward his cousin, who parried them clumsily but nonetheless held his own.

"You've sold out the cause, Lucius," Bedell snapped, angry and cornered. "Let your old feelings slip away like snakeskin so you could regain your vaunted superiority. But I knew that regardless of the lies told, Muggles are still and will always be inferior, like cattle to be herded and harvested if necessary. Even the nasty Mudbloods, who don't belong and never will."

"Your distressing lack of vision and adaptability will be your end," Lucius replied, boxing Bedell in and preparing to end it.

"I doubt that," Bedell said as he blocked another curse, the sly grin on his mouth the only signal Lucius had that reinforcements had arrived. He stupefied Bedell and whirled to face the new opponent—Antonin Dolohov.

"Long time no see, Lucius," Dolohov said, his wand working as quickly as Lucius' own. "Don't worry, I won't make this long."

"Likewise," Lucius said with a sneer, aware that Bedell had thrown off the Stupefy, flicking another two behind him in quick succession, the thud telling him that he had hit his mark again.

There was nothing else said, just two rapidly working wands and a vast array of hexes and dark curses that each wizard avoided or blocked. Dolohov was always more interested in a quick in and out fight, and Lucius intended to tire him out, taking a second to incarcerate Bedell with thick ropes before focusing all of his attention again on Dolohov.

"Been practicing," Antonin commented evenly, the crack of apparition an unpleasant reminder of how Dolohov had summoned help in Hogsmeade many months ago.

"Necessity," Lucius said, easily expanding his casting. He could be in real trouble here, hoped that Bertrand wasn't faffing about. Suddenly he felt his signet ring heat up—_fuck_. The stunning spell slipped in from behind him, and he heard Cornelia Dextrose's cold voice, summoned his magic nonverbally and cast, throwing Hermione's wand to the side before the "_Stupefy_!" from Dolohov hit him full frontal.

* * *

"This doesn't look occupied," Hermione said suspiciously, the curly maple wand still pointed at Thérèse although they had to allow the older witch her own wand to bring them both here. It was an isolated glen near a fjord, the only visible dwelling a pathetic looking cottage.

"Idiotic Mudblood," Thérèse sniffed. "You're here, I'm leaving. I won't wish you well. You shouldn't be interfering."

Draco recognized the murderous look in Hermione's eyes and pushed her wand down. "Calm down, Granger. She's just a vicious bitch, ignore her."

Thérèse took the opportunity to disapparate, although the fact that she bothered to muffle the crack of her disappearance was something, at least. Probably hoped they would walk right into the trap she had set for them, Hermione thought angrily to herself.

"Stay still!" Draco hissed, the feeling of cold egg whites running over her as Draco disillusioned them both and cast a quick Muffliato, a witch soon illuminated in the doorway of what was really a hovel.

"I don't see anything," Cornelia Dextrose whined, and they heard a man's voice behind her.

"I heard someone disapparating, I'm telling you." It was Bedell. They both held stock still, Hermione's mind racing through possibilities. The worst one flared into life as they heard a wrenched scream, then Dolohov's cold voice—

"Never thought I'd be turning my knives on you, Lucius. Still, your blood is as pretty as you are."

Never in her life had Hermione felt so impotent. She wanted to charge in, to cast every Unforgivable and watch that pond scum writhe under her wand, make him pay for every single one of his evil acts. She felt Draco's body stiffen next to hers, his own mind cast back to the innumerable atrocities he'd witnessed during the war. It said something that neither of them visibly flinched, even when they heard the thrashing that inevitably comes from the Cruciatus, breaking crockery and glass.

"You don't have to break up everything," they heard Bedell hiss, and Dolohov snarled back sharply, "Just keep looking for his wand! He threw it somewhere!"

As Draco and Hermione stood there for what felt like an eternity, Cornelia's eyes scanning incessantly for any telltale shimmer, they heard a large crack, then a piece of the glacier sheared off into the water a few miles away, churning up the sea with a rush of waves.

"It was the damn glacier," Cornelia said with a snap, looking over her shoulder. She shut the door and Hermione finally trembled with rage, her magic threatening to dispel the disillusionment Draco had cast.

"We have to do something," Draco said, aware that Hermione was a 'charge first, think later' kind of witch at moments like this. "Something clever, that they won't expect, just to buy time."

Hermione looked at Draco, who held up a familiar gold coin. "They are coming, Hermione. We just need minutes."

"He doesn't have minutes," Hermione snapped. "I'm going in there."

"You can't do that!" Draco hissed, and Hermione looked at him coldly.

"They want me alive. We need a distraction, and I'll give us one. You just focus on getting Lucius out."

"I can't let you do this, Hermione!" Draco's hand on her arm was the end for Hermione, a dreadful sound of ripping flesh reaching their ears from the open window.

"I either stun you now, or you do as I say," Hermione said, her tone absolutely glacial. Draco could feel her magic gathering itself, decided to take a chance on her plan rather than not be able to help at all.

"Fine, but I'm in as soon as they are distracted," Draco said, letting her go. He hoped it wasn't a mistake.

* * *

"THAT'S ENOUGH!"

Harry Potter's voice roared through the room at the French Auror headquarters, a Sonorous charm amplifying his voice. Bertrand ceased his arguing with a French Ministry official who was haranguing them about headstrong English wizards, cross-country boundary conditions, and other ridiculous rot.

"I know where they are, and we ARE going now," Harry thundered, holding up his glowing gold coin. "All Aurors, come here and get your portkeys! Now!"

"Finally, a wizard with some fucking sense," Bertrand hissed, grabbing a button from Harry. "It is the _trahison des clercs_, Mr. Potter." He paused and raised his wand. _"Ventre à terre_!"

* * *

Hermione felt preternaturally calm as she knocked on the door. She had Lucius' wand in hand, knew clinically they would take it the second the door was opened. She tried to prepare herself for the state her husband would be in, told herself in her mind that it could all be fixed. Still, nothing quite prepared her for the sight of him on the ground, his clothes shredded, swallowed up in ribbons of blood and what looked like clumps of flesh colored tissue paper. The smell of blood was strong, mixed with other scents she'd rather not think about. She focused on not heaving up the miniscule contents of her stomach as Dolohov eyed her speculatively and Cornelia Dextrose's eyes narrowed, her wand pointed at her. Bedell looked up from his knees on the floor in the far corner, a smug expression in his eyes.

"Well I do believe you have been useful after all Lucius," Bedell simpered, getting to his feet. Lucius bit his tongue so hard it bled, commanded his eyes to look up, where he saw his beautiful, pregnant wife. He had been afraid of this since his ring had heated, but hoped that Draco and others were there, or coming. His body was wracked again with another tremor from the Cruciatus, and Dolohov cursed him again, the jet of dark blue systematically breaking bones with sickening crunches in the arc he used to cast it.

"No one gave you permission to move," Dolohov said, his wand at ease in his hand as it finished its diagonal pass over Lucius' frame. "Disarm her."

Cornelia didn't need to summon the wand, as Hermione willing gave it over into the witch's palm. She would have it back soon enough.

"I believe it's time to discuss terms," Hermione said, as if she were in control of the situation entirely. Lucius' ribs felt on fire, and drawing breath had become agonizing, likely due to shards of bone puncturing at least one lung. _Focus_, he thought, trying to calm himself enough to work through the fiery pain that was intensifying like the burn of an inferno with each breath. _The wand_.

"There are no terms," Bedell said arrogantly, but Dolohov held up his hand.

"She wants to play, Malfaille. So let's play."

Hermione had expected the slicing hex, only partially blocked it wandlessly so he would have the satisfaction of hearing her gasp of pain and see her brought to her knees. They wanted her humbled, more than conciliatory. She'd play their game.

"You need me to help you with the data, the perfect application of your little breeding program," she said quietly, keeping her eyes down in what appeared to be a submissive manner, but she could still see through her lashes. Lucius' eyes had flown open at the sound she made, and she met his eyes for a split second, pleading with him to understand what she was doing. She thought he did, hoped he did.

"Ironic, isn't it? A little Mudblood, back to her muddy roots, helping enslave her fellow Muggles," Dolohov said cruelly, picking up a knife.

"Poetic justice," Bedell said with a sneer, just as Cornelia began to twitch.

"What's happening to me?" the witch shrieked, her hands convulsing, causing her to drop both wands as her eyes began to roll back in her head.

"You bitch," Antonin Dolohov snarled, casting a curse from the side as Lucius pushed up from the floor, wordlessly and wandlessly _Accio_ing Hermione's invisible wand into his hand a second before Hermione _Accio_'ed Lucius' wand to her own hand.

"Not today," Lucius said, forcing his magic through the wand and ignoring the overbearing torment of missing flesh and bone fragments, casting the strongest _Protego _of his life to block Dolohov's curse as Draco cracked into the room, instantly apprising the situation.

"_Crucio_!" Draco said, and meant it as the spell hit Dolohov from behind and Lucius crumpled to the floor, his face completely white, blood streaming again from his back.

"Lucius!" Hermione cried, taking two steps toward him as Bedell's face twisted in anger and he brought his own wand to bear.

"_Crucio partus_!"

Hermione felt a searing agony unlike anything she'd ever felt before, all concentrated below her navel as her child and uterus writhed within her. She couldn't focus or think, dimly heard Draco end the curse on Dolohov, the crack of numerous Apparations. She felt a surge of magic from her neck, the torc glowing with energy, its magic reaching out and compelling her own. Her thoughts because crystal clear for a split second, allowing her to focus, reach out to Lucius' leg and grab hold firmly. Draco, who had dropped to his knees and was plying his wand over his father, had the good sense to grab hold as Hermione apparated them all directly to St. Mungo's, where she collapsed, non-breathing, in a heap on the floor.


	35. Greater than Your Sympathy

**Guest 1 and arabellagrace, I hope this chapter relieves you.**

**viola, I hope I didn't make you wait too long.**

**zeeksmom, yes, that French cousin is a very nasty individual. **

**angstar, well, a serial story has to have some cliffhangers.**

**Guest2, a little violent toward Hermione but I can understand the frustration some readers feel toward her.**

**I hope you are all enjoying your weekend. Read on to find out what happens to our brave protagonists! Please tell me what you think. Reviews make me happy.**

* * *

Lucius felt warmth. It was coming from somewhere, teasing his consciousness to full wakefulness. His brain pinpointed the location of the warmth, adding in the light—his eyelids. The sun. He forced the lids upward, the bright sunlight making him feel dizzy even though he was lying down…in a hospital bed. Mungo's. He was in St. Mungo's. Why?

"About time you came around," a familiar voice said. Lucius moved his head slightly to the side, causing twinges of pain. Calvin Yaxley was studying him dispassionately, leaning forward with his forearms on his knees, his hands clasped loosely between them. "You probably caused your son to get his first grey hairs."

"Where is Hermione?" Lucius rasped, his throat parched, his vocal cords swollen and sore.

"Alive. He really did a number on you, didn't he?"

Lucius struggled to sit up, winced heavily as his back burned, stretched. Calvin levitated him and adjusted the bed upward, then set his friend back down with a none-too-gentle thump.

"Bastard," Lucius said, but there was little heat in it. "How is it that Azkaban's lost one of its most popular residents?"

"That potion you gave Potter proved that Amelia's baby is magical, as well as that I'm the father—as you well know. Your haste of action is touching."

The sarcasm rolled off Lucius' tender back without issue. "We had to wait until she was far enough along to detect the baby's own magic."

"Uh huh. Because you weren't the slightest bit pissed off that I said nothing to you about the ashwinder nest that was my personal life." Calvin looked unimpressed, but Lucius just sniffed.

"You hardly look the worse for the wear for it," he scoffed, then turned his mind back to more pressing matters. "Where is my wife?"

A slightly worried look passed over Calvin's face, but it was quickly covered by his impassive mask. "In hospital, same as you. Her case was a bit more…difficult than yours."

That was twice now that Calvin hadn't mentioned the baby at all. Lucius felt a wave of anger and grief and impotence at the implication of that, struggled to get himself out of the bed. "I need to see her."

"Not so fast, friend." Calvin's hand was steady against his shoulder, gently restraining him. "I think you'd better stay right where you are. You're not supposed to exert yourself at all for another day—besides, I believe Draco wants to talk to you about Hermione himself. He should be along shortly."

"And I'm supposed to wait like a good little boy for my son to tell me what's wrong with my wife?" Lucius snarled. "I don't think so. Where is my wand?"

Calvin sighed. He had expected this. "Are you up for a walk?"

In twenty minutes Lucius was dressed, his mind forcing his hands to work despite the lingering tremors from the Cruciatus and the pain whenever the muscles in his back moved. Calvin was keeping an eye on the door, aware that Lucius would tear the hospital apart before he would stop looking for Hermione. Therefore, to his way of thinking, he was doing them all a service by taking him to her.

"Ready?" he asked in a clipped tone, wordlessly proffering his friend's wand to him.

Lucius grasped the curly maple, the surge of warmth as familiar as breathing to him, and nodded. "Let's go."

The sight of the pair of them raised a few eyebrows as they navigated the halls with less than Lucius' usual speed, Yaxley's hand steady at his elbow. It was lowering to rely on someone else for assistance, but better that than sitting, to Lucius' way of thinking. At least Calvin wouldn't bring it up again, one of those unspoken tenets of their friendship. Nonetheless, they had almost reached the doors when a Healer attempted to stop them.

"Excuse me—"

"Just don't." Calvin Yaxley's tone was dead, and the Healer paused mid-step.

"But the paperwork—"

"Put down that he discharged himself," Calvin retorted loudly over his shoulder as he helped his friend out the door.

"But you said she was in hospital," Lucius began, and Calvin cut him off.

"A Muggle hospital. I meant what I said when I said I hoped you were up for a walk."

Lucius processed that, turning over what it could mean. "Who treated her?"

"Miriam Strout and Hippocrates Smethwyck. And Draco. Who, I hear, was quite argumentative over her course of treatment."

Silence lapsed between them as they moved slowly through the Muggle streets. Both were used to ignoring any odd looks from Muggles, although they didn't look too exceptional in black suits, if their coats were a little over-long for Muggle fashion. At least they weren't in robes.

After what should have been a ten minute walk but which took twenty, they were finally outside St. Mary's hospital in Paddington. Yaxley moved them both to the visitor's desk, removing his hand finally from Lucius' elbow when it seemed that that wizard was capable of standing unassisted.

"We're here to visit a patient, Hermione Malfoy. My wife." Lucius' voice was slightly less controlled on the last, and Calvin said nothing but watched his friend carefully. He was still unsteady on his pins, but Calvin had no desire to provoke Lucius into drawing his wand. Best to let him see her, and quickly.

The receptionist tapped at her keyboard and pulled up the details. "She's on the fourth floor, room 408. Only family permitted to visit," she added, eyeing Calvin over her glasses.

"He's family," Lucius said brusquely, then shoved away from the desk, heading for the lifts. Calvin glided soundlessly to take his elbow again, but let Lucius punch the button viciously, waited what seemed like an age for Muggles to enter and exit the lift before they finally stopped at level four. They walked down the hallway to the right, counting rooms silently until the numbers 408 on a placard next to the door let them know they were in the right place.

"One thing, Lucius."

Lucius looked at his friend, his face a blank even while his emotions rolled like a wind whipped sea. "Yes?"

"No magic. It's one of the reasons she is here," Calvin said softly.

"I had guessed," Lucius said, but hearing it audibly confirmed was still a sucker punch. He depressed the door handle and pushed inward, his eyes transfixed by his wife, his lovely wife, pale and eyes closed, tubes running from her arms, Muggle devices beeping, lights scrolling across screens. His vision grew cloudy as he walked to her, drew the chair alongside, gently took her hand, stroking what skin he could reach around the lines.

"I'm here, love. I'm here."

* * *

"What do you mean, he checked himself out?" Draco said loudly, dismissing the quill hovering behind him over a parchment clipboard. "One thing I ask you to do, Josephus, ONE thing, and you even bollux that up!"

"Sorry sir," the trainee Healer stammered, but Draco ignored him.

"Fuck, he's gone to Paddington," Draco said more to himself than to the trainee. "I'll be back later."

The trainee healer watched him stalk off in a swirl of lime colored robes and swallowed. That had gone well.

* * *

Calvin watched his friend from the relative sanctuary of the window, trying to give him as much privacy as possible while still keeping an eye on him. It was one of the reasons he had resolved to be there when Lucius woke if Draco was not—he knew that his friend would not sit still, content with secondhand tidings of his wife.

Lucius wanted nothing more than to see Hermione's eyes open, so he kept talking to her, soothing and low as he recounted waking up, missing her, needing her. He had tuned out all of the Muggle noises, focused only on his wife and her recovery. She was still here, and her stubbornness would not let her quit. He simply had to be patient and wait for her to come back.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

Lucius turned his head to see a Muggle healer in a white coat, reluctantly set Hermione's hand down and briefly shook the Muggle's hand as the doctor introduced himself.

"I'm Dr. Thompson, and I'm supervising your wife's care along with your referring hospital. It's been quite the team effort, but I believe she is out of danger now, and we just have to be patient and wait for her to wake up from her coma."

Doctors, that is what they called healers, Lucius remembered. "Thank you. I was in the hospital myself, or I would have been here sooner," he explained slowly, picking up Hermione's hand again.

"Yes, so your physician informed us." He paused and looked at Lucius. "Are you sure you're supposed to be out of the hospital already? You look a bit shaky."

"Yes, it's just superficial twinges now," Lucius lied, ignoring Calvin's snort from the window which drew the doctor's attention. "My brother," Lucius added by way of explanation, which caused the doctor to return his attention to Lucius.

"Now, I think it will probably be another 24 hours or so, given that we have to withdraw her sedation slowly, and we want to monitor the baby to be sure there isn't a resumption of contractions, or risk of further damage to the placenta…"

Lucius gripped the doctor's arm, didn't care if a look of alarm flashed briefly in the healer's face. "The baby is alive? She didn't miscarry?"

"No, Mr. Malfoy," Dr. Thompson said gently, placing his hand over Lucius'. "The baby is fine—see there, the second line? That is her heartbeat."

Lucius' eyes overflowed with tears, tears of gratitude, tears of joy, but he held them back forcibly after the first few fell. "_Her_ heartbeat…oh my love, we're going to have a beautiful daughter," Lucius said quietly to Hermione, placing his hand on her rounded belly and kissing his wife on her temple, stroking back her hair. He had just assumed that her body would take time to catch up to its emptiness, her roundness an unhappy reminder of what they had both lost. "Please come back to me. We have yet to choose a name, pet, and I'm afraid you will hate me if I pick Pleiades or something equally twee."

"Mr. Malfoy?" The Muggle healer interrupted his thoughts and Lucius was annoyed, but restrained himself from hexing the man. Oblivious to the danger and satisfied that he once again had the spouse's attention, he continued, "There will be some complications with labor which we will need to discuss when your wife is conscious. Also, we have concerns about keeping the baby in utero for a few more weeks at a minimum to give the baby's lungs time to mature, so we need to discuss some steroid shots as well. For the moment, however, the baby seems to be staying put and we just want to get Mrs. Malfoy back to full consciousness and assess from that point forward. Does that make sense?"

Lucius shook his head impatiently. "It doesn't matter if I understand it or not. I simply want my wife and child to be healthy."

"May I?" Dr. Thompson said, indicating Hermione's bump. After Lucius withdrew his left hand and nodded, the doctor palpated Hermione's abdomen gently, feeling for the baby's position. "Her head is just here," he indicated beneath Hermione's right ribs, "and her feet are down here," he said, feeling the pokes from an active pair of feet. "Breech, but there is time for her to turn. I suspect that is all moot however, but as I said, we can wait until your wife is awake to discuss delivery options. You are welcome to stay until visiting hours have concluded, Mr. Malfoy. And, get yourself something to eat. That's an order."

With a smile and a wave to Calvin, the doctor left the room, leaving Lucius thinking that it would be a cold day in hell before he took medical advice from a Muggle healer. He looked at Calvin across the small room and asked, "Obviously a Muggle is not going to be able to explain the magic proscription. Why has that order been issued?"

Calvin opened his mouth to reply, but Draco saved him the hassle of a reply by walking into the room.

"About time you got here," Calvin said before Lucius could say anything.

"What are you doing out of St. Mungo's?" Draco scowled to his father, his hand itching to use his wand and check him over. "You're still healing, for fuck's sake. You shouldn't be here!" At this Draco darted a fierce look at Yaxley, who was blatantly unapologetic.

"What, I was to just let him go alone? At least this way I've been able to keep an eye on them both."

Lucius, however, rounded on his son.

"Whatever made you _think_ that I would sit idly by while Hermione was injured, not knowing how badly? Of course I would come to her! I love her!"

Lucius' cheeks flushed an unhealthy red, and Draco swiped his hand across his eyes. Draco looked tired, but Lucius looked like death warmed over. Draco was concerned about the muscle damage to Lucius' back—there were still some treatments to go, and he'd probably just undone the work of one healing session with his jaunt over here.

"I know you do. I'm sorry I wasn't there, I had to see about Cornelia Dextrose. I don't know what curse Hermione hit her with, but we're still trying to reverse it."

"Just let the bitch die," Lucius said harshly, and Calvin tut-tutted.

"Afraid we need her to pin down the missing mole," Calvin said, and Lucius waved a hand, dismissing the topic as his gaze switched back to his son.

"Explain what happened to her."

Draco ran his fingers through his hair. "She used that torc to get us all out of there, apparated all three of us from Norway directly to St. Mungo's A&E ward. Needless to say, such a feat drained her significantly, even with the help of that necklace. By the way, why didn't you tell me about that? I've never seen it before."

"It is meant only for the direst of circumstances, to protect the last of the line if necessary," Lucius said grimly. "Given the circumstances I felt Hermione might need it."

"Well it was clearly only designed for mother and child. To say she stretched it too far to take both of us along with her is more than an understatement. She wasn't actually breathing when we arrived at Mungo's, and once we got that fixed we had to deal with the damage to her uterus and placenta, while the baby was still suffering from the aftereffects…" Draco stopped when he saw his father's hand clenching the bedsheet so hard that his knuckles were bone white. "In short, it was a lot of magic, too much, too fast, too soon. We brought her here to give her system time to recharge and re-equilibrate. With time, she should be fine."

"_Should_. And what about my daughter?" Lucius asked, forcing his hand to relax, release the bedclothes and stroke Hermione's cheek again. He didn't need to look at Draco to see the uncertainty, the slight indrawn breath enough to say it before his words confirmed it.

"We just don't know. We'll have to wait and see. No one has ever seen this type of variant on the Cruciatus before."

"Tell me they killed him." Lucius' voice was cold, measured, even as a part of him wished for the honor of crucifying his bastard cousin himself, plying his wand in a way he had never craved to do under the Dark Lord, who would doubtless have delighted in the bleak viciousness of such feelings.

Draco debated, then opted for the straight shot. "He got away."

Lucius' fist crashed onto the table next to Hermione's bed, the noise jarring amid the beeps and quiet electronic hum of the room. He regained control of himself quickly, the flare of his nostrils the only indication of the furious anger boiling beneath the surface.

"We have Dolohov, Lucius," Calvin said. "He's proving recalcitrant to talk. I was hoping you could…assist. Behind the scenes, of course."

"When Hermione is well," Lucius said slowly, returning his attention to his wife. "How long, Draco? And what can I do to help her recover?"

"Well, I think she should be gradually exposed to magic again, coax her own back from its slumber, if you will. Smethwyck is undecided, and Strout thinks she should remain isolated from magic."

Lucius interrupted him, peeved. "Miriam Strout couldn't tell the difference between Devil's Snare and Flitterbloom. I don't want her caring for my wife!"

"I told him you'd say that," Calvin piped up unhelpfully, his arms crossed across his chest.

"Shut up," Lucius and Draco simultaneously growled at him, and Calvin raised a brow.

"I'll just leave you two to carry on your little domestic then, shall I? I'll be right outside the door." Calvin let himself out, aware that father and son dynamics could be curious things.

"Look, please don't get worked up. We can talk about all of this at home, figure out the best approach. Right now, however, I need to check her and the baby, and then I'm going to check you. You've probably undone a day's worth of work by coming over here," Draco pled, watching his father crawl back from his instinctive defensiveness. Lucius didn't say anything, simply turned his head back to Hermione, picking up her hand while Draco drew his wand and cast carefully, a faint shimmer tinted with pale, pastel colors coalescing. He turned his wand toward the baby, and Lucius watched an even paler shimmer rise.

"That's good, better than yesterday," Draco said, ending the spell. "They are recovering, I think."

"Both?" Lucius asked quietly, placing his left hand on the baby, pushing slightly where the Muggle had said his daughter's feet were resting. He felt a nudge back, a reassurance that this girl was a fighter, "...just like her mother," Lucius murmured.

"Merlin help us," Draco remarked. "So you know it's a girl."

"Yes, that idiotic Muggle assumed I already knew." It was the kind of thing that would have pissed him off five years ago, but under the circumstances Lucius found it no more than a meddling irritation. "He said something about delivery, her placenta, and trying to keep the baby in for a few weeks more. What did he mean, and is that really the path that is necessary under the circumstances? All of this?" Lucius waved his hand toward the Muggle paraphernalia. "I can't imagine their pain relief is better than our potions."

"Probably not, but we decided to be cautious; and given how close they both came to dying—it seemed prudent. We repaired as much as we could with Hermione's uterus, the placenta was trickier, but the midwife, Astrid Løngren, gave us some help there. I recommend you speak to her about the delivery. We will have to see how she continues to improve, and whether your daughter is truly anxious to make an early appearance or not." Draco stopped, then confessed, "I am not sure what to make of having a half-sister on the way. There hasn't been a Malfoy female in generations. I don't know what Scorpius will make of her."

Lucius pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes. I need to talk to him, explain what it will be like with a new baby. I imagine he will be a bit jealous."

"Doubtless he will. Now, if you don't mind, I want to take a look at your back, and also give you some of your potions."

"I'm not leaving her," Lucius said, the softness of his voice belying the steel underlying it.

"I'm just asking you to step out so I can look at you without using more magic around them," Draco said. "We can use an empty hospital room, and I'll go to Mungo's and bring the potions back here. Okay?"

"Fine." Lucius stood carefully, irritated that he was so weak. "I hope your cadre of potions will include some PepperUp."

Draco helped his father down the hall, Yaxley wordlessly slipping into the room to stand guard with a nod to Lucius. "Auror," Lucius muttered under his breath as they passed a towheaded man in scrubs and white coat.

"How do you know that?" Draco asked, truly bemused.

"Posture," Lucius said stiffly as Draco checked a patient room and ushered Lucius in, locking the door with a pass of his wand. At least Kingsley wasn't neglecting precautionary measures for his wife.

"Now, shirt off. I want to see that back." Draco sighed in frustration when he removed the bandages and saw the blood. "You'll never heal if you keep tearing the muscles as they are healing! What were you thinking…never mind, I know. Okay, let me see what I can do to staunch the bleeding. For Salazar's sake, how did you walk here like this?"

Lucius remained silent, his lips thinning as Draco at least mended the broken muscle fibers, got the bleeding to stop, then applied fresh bandages. "You need more muscle layers to be rebuilt, but that is going to require simultaneous potions and wandwork, we can't have the new muscle tissue growing uncontrollably. I'll have to have you in Mungo's for that, as it will require at least two of us."

"Figure out a way to do it here," Lucius bit out.

"Fine," Draco said, throwing up his hands and eyeing his father with frustration as Lucius turned around and met his eye. He melted, though, when his father held out his shirt and said, "Help me?" His father looked drawn, drained even worse than he had been in the last few days before the end of the war. It was sad and frightening to see him, so frail and exhausted.

"You're a fucking piece of work, you are," Draco said to cover his feelings, but he helped his father into his shirt, doing the top two buttons while Lucius slowly did up the bottom ones. Then he helped him into his coat while Lucius gingerly tucked the shirt in, straightened the lapels so Lucius could button it. "There, better? You still look like shite, I have to tell you."

Lucius smiled at the sardonic tone of his son, and before Draco could worm away he pulled him into a tight embrace, his back be damned. "I'm proud of you, Draco," he whispered in his son's ear, heard Draco swallow hard.

"Yeah, well, I'm proud of you too." Draco pulled back after a brief, awkwardly reassuring moment, and avoided looking at his dad while he cleared his throat. "Right. I'll go fetch the potions you need while you talk to Calvin about staying here without the Muggles noticing. I'll be back shortly."

Lucius knew he didn't have to say anything else. Draco helped him back down the hall, made sure that Yaxley was going to stay there until he got back.

"I've got him," Calvin assured him when Draco looked at him, Lucius returning straight to Hermione's side.

"Thanks."


	36. The Wonderful Dr Seuss

**Good afternoon, readers. Wow, two weeks I've left you hanging, I am sorry. Normally I try to keep it to one week, but real life has kept me hopping! I am back in work, and even without students yet I am really busy-committees, a special task force with high visibility to administration, plus a project to complete before classes resume. And I've had a sick child and a sick husband-typical back to school colds, blech. And it's harvest season! Anyway, here is the next chapter. I am going to attempt to get the next chapter up within a week, feel reasonably confident in doing so as long as I can stay healthy. A few very belated review replies:**

**Rhiannon, I hope you're still enjoying the story!**

**roon0, WELCOME and THANKS for all the marvelous chapter by chapter reviews! You rock!**

**randomfan17, yes, it was ugly fall-out. I'm sure you're ready to find out what happens to Hermione here.**

**angstar, yes, I think a little girl is great for the Malfoys! Glad you liked that chapter and I have taken note of your and Alesia's hints about Harry.**

**Guest, thanks for the kudos about the story!**

**Alesia, good catch on the room numbers! I will try to go back and fix now, although I have to get dinner going. Your characterization of the relationship between Calvin and Lucius is great! I did not expect Calvin to develop as he has, but as you often hear characters take on a life of their own and so it was with Yaxley. I'm quite pleased with his voice, it's good for Lucius to have a friend like that.**

**zeeksmom, here you go, no more angsting. Real life can be demanding as you know!**

**Ok, I will say again I do not own the HP world, but thank you for enjoying my imaginative ramble through it with my own spin. I have not had a chance to edit this AT ALL so please forgive any mistakes! Thanks!**

* * *

"Why is she not waking?" Lucius demanded, and Draco frowned with irritation, giving his father a pointed look which Lucius ignored, his attention focused on the Muggle doctor.

"Sometimes it takes time for the brain to realize it's time to wake up, for lack of a better description. She was subjected to a trauma, and unfortunately sometimes it is difficult to detect any brain trauma until after the sedating medications are removed. If there is no change, we will see about some detailed scans tomorrow, and go from there." Dr. Thompson looked grave, and Lucius' hand was firmly fixed on his wand in his coat sleeve. He was hideously tempted to hex the Muggle, but it would not help anything.

"It is encouraging that the contractions have lessened in intensity, and the baby seems to be staying put. I would very much like to discuss a birth plan with you, Mr. Malfoy—"

"Not now," Draco interrupted. "The specialist from St. Mungo's has several opinions about that, and she will be consulting with you shortly, I have no doubt."

"Yes, well, it's a bit unorthodox to not transfer her obstetrical care here as well…" Thompson began, but was cut off by Lucius.

"My _wife_ is a bit _unorthodox_, so you'll pardon me for relying on our specialist," he said tightly, and the Muggle wisely fell silent again. In the three days in which Lucius had been planted by Hermione's side, he had gained quite a reputation with the doctors for his obstinacy, and a bit of an adoring fan club from the nurses, who found his devotion to his wife and unborn daughter extremely touching.

"Dr. Thompson, perhaps we could continue this discussion in your office. I don't think my father is prepared to have a lengthy discussion of care plans at present, at least without a few consultations with our usual family doctors." Draco could feel the air stirring in a way that was reminiscent of an impending hex, and he had no desire to deal with the paperwork and Obliviate that would entail.

"Yes, Dr. Malfoy, perhaps that would be best at present," Dr. Thompson agreed, and escorted Draco to his office.

"You owe me," Draco said under his breath to Lucius as he passed him, but Lucius was focused on Hermione. His own injuries were now nearly fully healed, and after a few rounds with the senior consulting Healers from Mungo's he had wrangled a few hidden transfigurations to the room which allowed him to stay with Hermione around the clock. The Muggle surroundings and the requirement to hide his magic was extremely wearing, as was the worry from Hermione's continued…rest, for lack of a better term. No one would call it a coma, but she was still non-responsive. Lucius had started reading to her from her favorite journals, Shakespeare, poetry, anything that he thought might gain a response. The nurses had caught him reading fairy tales to the baby as well, and they had begun leaving Muggle children's books for him to read as well. It was the only part of the experience that Lucius found in any way pleasant, although the nurses generally gave him a wide berth.

"Hermione, love, I am going to get you transferred back to Mungo's," Lucius said, kissing her hand. "Now, where were we? I believe I was about to finish 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'. Utter tosspot rubbish, of course, but for a Squib he did have quite the turn of phrase…now…"

Draco popped his head in and left again thirty minutes later without saying goodbye. His father was practically obsessed with Hermione's condition, and there was no use in trying to get him to pay attention to anything else. Even Kingsley had wisely decided not to push his favorite ex-Death Eater about the prisoner interrogations, because Lucius had practically hexed Calvin for even bringing up the current status of the process. They had all decided to wait until Hermione was better before even bringing it up again. Draco was betting on her regaining consciousness any time now, but it was damned tricky to predict based on magical level recovery alone. Much like the brain trauma hypothesis of the Muggles, the Healers agreed that it was sometimes difficult to ascertain how quickly a wizard or witch would recover from the mental trauma of certain curses. With Hermione being pregnant, no one was confident in their estimates. Draco sincerely hoped Hermione would come around soon, because the next step would be discussion of the Janus Thickley ward—and then Lucius WOULD go mental.

"Hmm, I think it's time for a few stories for this little one," Lucius said to Hermione, feeling the kicks under his hand. He tried to keep some type of contact all the time, reasoning that it helped her know he was there.

"Oh, I am sorry Mr. Malfoy," a soft voice said from the doorway. Lucius turned his head and found one of the nurses there, a few Muggle storybooks in her arms. "I just thought you might like some new books to read to them."

"Thank you," Lucius said sincerely, putting down the book he had abruptly let fall the few inches to his lap when he heard someone speak. He accepted the books with a nod and waited until the latch had clicked before he looked through them.

"'The Places You'll Go'…well, how about that one, little bean?" Lucius asked, taking the kick he received as affirmation. "Very well. 'Baby oh baby, the places you'll go! The worlds you will visit! The friends you will know!'" Lucius stopped and chuckled, then leaned his head closer to the baby to say, "Oh, dear, they have no idea…"

"That makes it better," a very dry, whispery voice said. Lucius' head flew up, and the sight of his wife's tired but conscious eyes on him had never been sweeter. He flew out of his chair and pulled her gently into his arms, uncaring of the lines and noises of the machines as monitors slid out of place.

"Sweet Salazar, woman, don't ever do that to me again," he whispered into her hair, shutting his eyes tightly prevent any disgraceful tears from falling.

"I'm sorry I worried you," Hermione whispered back. "I'm thirsty."

"Dear, sweet, marvelous, witch. Of course you are." Lucius conjured a glass of water, not giving a damn if any of the Muggles walked in at the moment in response to the beeping alarms that were starting to go off. "You can have whatever you want, love."

The door burst open as a nurse rushed in, saying, "Mr. Malfoy, what's happening—" She cut off abruptly when she saw Hermione. "Oh, that's wonderful, that is. Hang on one moment, Mrs. Malfoy, I'll be right back to take your vitals, then I'll let Dr. Thompson know you're awake. He'll be pleased as punch!"

Hermione handed Lucius the water glass, which he vanished as she asked in a slightly steadier voice, "Why am I in a Muggle hospital?"

"That, my love, is a very good question, and one which will take some time to tell. For the time being, please let's get through the Muggle formalities, and after they are done I will summon Draco and the rest of your consultants from Mungo's. There are a few things we need to do before we can get you out of here."

Hermione looked puzzled, but Lucius didn't have time to explain further, as the nurse returned prepared to take all of the measurements she needed, and to reposition baby monitors and heart rate monitors before she was satisfied enough to summon the Muggle doctor.

"Lucius, what about the baby?" Hermione's tone was urgent, and Lucius was torn as to how much to tell her. He didn't want to upset her but also he didn't want to lie.

"She is fine," he said, and noticed her eyes widen at his use of the feminine pronoun. Distraction achieved.

"She?" she whispered, and Lucius smiled.

"Yes," he said, pushing her hair back from her forehead. "We are having a daughter. Heaven help me if she is as stubborn as her mother."

Tears swelled in Hermione's eyes, and Lucius rubbed them away with his fingertips. "Don't cry, love. She will be hideously spoiled, and already she has her father wrapped around her finger."

"You were reading Muggle stories to her," Hermione whispered, her hand clenching around his. "You are…words fail me. I love you," she said fiercely, and Lucius kissed her carefully.

"I love you too, dearest. Let's see what we can do about getting both of you home as soon as possible."

Hermione's eyes wandered and she read the label on her IV bag. "I'm still on medications. What are they giving me and why?"

Lucius was frustrated at his lack of knowledge of Muggle pharmaceuticals. "I cannot answer the 'what', but as to 'why', you were having premature contractions, and they had to stop them to allow our daughter more time to develop. The Muggles have concerns about her lungs, and Astrid concurs that it would be best if she waits a while longer to be born."

"Do they not have potions that would accomplish the same goal?"

Lucius swore mentally at his wife's quick mind, and considered how much to tell her to keep her calm. "After you were hit with that curse, the healers have opted to be as conservative as possible when it comes to magical treatments."

Hermione thought about this, closing her eyes briefly, which made Lucius squeeze her hand when she kept them closed for a second longer than he could tolerate. She opened her eyes again and looked at him, a wry and tired look on her face. "Don't worry, Lucius, I'm still here."

"Yes you are, love—yes you are."

Hermione tolerated Dr. Thompson's examination and discussion of her condition with far greater equanimity than Lucius, which was hardly surprising. She asked a few succinct questions about the medications they were still using to keep the contractions at bay, and was less than satisfied with the timeline the physician was able to offer for withdrawing them.

"Surely it would be wisest to try to stop them altogether?" she asked, and got the distinct impression that they were not in the habit of ceasing the dosages until delivery had been achieved! This was certainly not what Hermione wanted to hear, but she didn't say anything until the doctor had left the room. Lucius, correctly divining her mood, simply raised an eyebrow and waited.

"Well if he thinks I'm going to stay here on those medications just because he says so, he has another think coming," Hermione huffed. "I want to hear what the healers have to say, and I also want a detailed explanation of what they think can be achieved by me remaining here now that I am conscious again."

This was precisely what Lucius had been hoping for, and he sighed with relief. "Of course you know that I feel the same. I imagine Draco will be here shortly."

Hermione then noticed that he was fingering his ring, and she leaned back against the pillow and closed her eyes. "I'll just rest until he gets here, then. But you are to wake me when he arrives, please!"

Lucius kissed her fingers. "Believe me, my darling, the last thing I want is to see you unconscious again for long periods of time! I do believe you are responsible for my first grey hairs."

"Lucius, I am so very sorry for frightening you—but I will not apologize for saving you either." Hermione said this while her eyes were still closed, and Lucius merely turned her hand over to press a kiss into the center of her palm, carefully avoiding disturbing the IV that he now wanted to see gone with a rekindled zeal.

"Hermione, I expect nothing less."

* * *

"Ok Granger, time to see if you're ready to be sprung."

Draco's signature smirk was firmly in place, the senior midwife Astrid by his side, wand at the ready. Hippocrates Smethwyck was on standby at St. Mungo's in case he was needed, the Muggles were being carefully redirected with a site specific Confundus charm, and the Aurors were again being firmly directly by Calvin Yaxley. Hermione had been conscious for three days, and hopefully she would _finally_ be allowed to go home today.

Hermione looked at Lucius. He appeared calm, but Hermione knew he was nervous from the way the muscle in his temple was jumping. She took his hand and caught his eye, taking a deep breath to remind him to relax. The healers needed time to ascertain if the Muggle medications were completely gone from Hermione's system, and if she was still having premature contractions. Apparently the process would take nearly an hour, and they didn't want Muggles walking in on wand waving and potion giving.

"Remember Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy that if it is necessary, we can Apparate you directly to Mungo's maternity ward. Hopefully we won't have to do that, but since this is a unique case…" The midwife had short blond hair and the silliest pair of spectacles Hermione had ever seen, but she was kind and extremely capable, and far more approachable than Healer Smethwyck. Draco rolled his eyes behind her, his arms crossed over his chest.

He was back to his usual irascible self around the pair of them, but Hermione knew from Astoria that he had nearly given himself a bald patch worrying about first Lucius and then her. She smiled at him—he wouldn't fool her any more. It didn't matter that he persisted in calling her by her maiden name, to Draco she was a Malfoy through and through now.

"I want to remind you that it might take some time for any ill effects to be seen," Draco said. He was remaining guarded about the process, not wanting to get anyone's hopes up unnecessarily.

"We understand," Lucius said tersely. Hermione had improved markedly over the past 24 hours, and all that stood between them and a quiet, peaceful home was this medication and a potentially excitable uterus. Needless to say, they were both hoping for a chance to recuperate quietly at home, away from the mania of a Muggle hospital. Even Hermione had reached the end of her patience with the endless rounds of checks despite the monitors, the shift changes, the night-time checks, and the distressing levels to which Lucius went to conceal magic that he used as naturally as he breathed. While it was somewhat easier for Hermione, as she was still not permitted to lift a finger, magically or otherwise, she could see how the days spent at her bedside had frayed Lucius' nerves.

"Let's get started then," Draco said, waving his wand to turn off the pumps, then adroitly removing the IV, leaving the line intact just in case.

"Right, let's see how we go then," Astrid said cheerfully, and they sat back to wait, Draco and Astrid keeping a close eye on the monitoring spells they had cast on Hermione and the baby.

After about fifteen minutes, Hermione looked at Lucius and then the healers. "Well, this is boring."

"Boring is good," Draco said, his eyes intently focused on the monitoring spell that was tracking her.

"Could we listen to some music?" Hermione asked, and the midwife shook her head.

"We'd prefer to keep things as calm as possible," she said, her own attention focused on the baby's statistics.

Lucius raised Hermione's hand to his lips and kissed the inside of her wrist. "We've had enough excitement to last us for quite a while. I think I'll happily take an hour of boredom, love."

"Well, things look good thus far—now it's time to push the magic issue," Astrid said firmly. "Hermione, we will need you to take this potion. It will enhance your sensitivity to magic for a period of about an hour, but it will allow to see how well your body and the baby are tolerating magical influences."

"Right," Hermione said, accepting the potion. "Why every potion needs to smell foul, I will never understand…"

"Bottoms up," Lucius said tartly, and Hermione quit complaining and drank the potion.

"How long until—" Hermione cut off with a gasp as a strong contraction began.

"I was afraid of this…" Astrid said, her wand whipping quickly through the air. "Yes, definitely sustained—we need to transfer," she said, meeting Draco's gaze.

"Baby is okay right now," Draco said, nodding to Lucius.

"Hold on pet," Lucius said, taking Hermione's hand. "Mungo's maternity?"

"Yes. The apparition room. See you there."

All four turned into nothingness, Lucius taking Hermione via side-along. Hermione's first thought was that the bed was more comfortable than the one at the Muggle hospital, and her second was that something was very, very wrong.

"Contraction is sustained…labor signs are increasing," Astrid said, while Draco broke an ampule, then shoved the phial under Hermione's nose.

"Breathe, Granger. Father, give us some room please."

"Lucius—" Hermione said, her hand reaching for his.

"I won't leave," he said, a promise to Hermione and a guarantee to Draco and the other Healers rushing into the room.

"Just stay out of the way," Draco said as Smethwyck took a wand in. Hermione gasped, gripping Lucius' hand tightly. Her uterus was twisting, almost trying to turn over inside her.

"It feels like—" she ground out, and Smethwyck, his brow furrowed, finished, "—the curse is trying to reactivate itself."

"Baby's not happy here!" Draco shouted, a fact made clear by the wild jab of a limb that was visibly apparent. The spell he had cast to monitor the baby was glowing an unhealthy red, and Hermione bit her lip from the pain twisting her abdomen.

"Back to Paddington," Smethwyck said, clamping a hand on Hermione's shoulder and blasting Lucius off, disapparating them both straight back to the Muggle hospital room.

"Easy now," Smethwyck said as Lucius popped back in immediately with his wand drawn, darting a glance at the ex-Death Eater before returning his attention to his patient. He had been a Healer longer than Lucius Malfoy had followed the Dark Lord, and he wasn't intimidated by drawn wands in his, or rather a Muggle, healing room. Astrid and Draco popped in, and Smethwyck was pleased to see them immediately resume their previous task. Astrid had grabbed a box of potions, and another Healer in lime green robes popped into view carrying more.

"No more wands!" Smethwyck barked at all of them, taking note of the way the baby was still jumping around, Hermione's uterus still contracting extremely. "Antidote to Uncommon Poisons, please, and Draught of Peace. Draco, Astrid, please get Dr. Ubbly's Oblivious Unction ready for intrapartous administration." The Healer held the antidote to Hermione's lips, urging her to drink it, then gave the Draught of Peace to Lucius. "Take a sip yourself, you could use it. Good. Now the rest for your wife, please."

Satisfied that Lucius was doing as he was told, Smethwyck strode over to take stock of the additional potions the junior healer had brought. "Very good Stebbins, please get a restoration potion, and, I think, Potion Number 83."

"A restoration potion is not licensed for intraparous administration," Lucius said, and the Healer raised a grey eyebrow at him.

"Thank you for telling me my business, Mr. Malfoy. You may know potions, but I know Dark spells, perhaps even better than _you_, especially when it comes to curing them. Now, either shut up or prepare to meet your daughter far too early for her lungs."

Lucius subsided and returned his attention to Hermione, who was still feeling very uncomfortable from the way their girl was jumping about.

"Ready with the Ubbly's," Astrid said, exchanging a glance with Draco.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked, the contractions easing slightly.

"Keeping your baby where she belongs, for now," Smethwyck said. "Løngren, Malfoy."

The pair of them began to administer the potion to the baby, and almost instantly there was an effect.

"Ouch!" Hermione said as she received a jab in the ribs, but their daughter seemed to be calming down, her movements slowing, which in turn let Hermione's uterus relax. Draco and Astrid finished delivering the potion, and Smethwyck handed the restoration potion to Hermione.

"Drink please," he said, finally drawing his wand again as the baby's motions grew less vehement. "Everyone keep your hair on, I am just going to check on this young lady's vital signs."

Hermione downed the potion, surprised by the flavor of mowed grass. Smethwyck cast the charm very carefully, a very non-intrusive spell. The baby's pulse had dropped back to a normal range, respiration was good, blood flow through the umbilical cord was good. Satisfied, he added in a little twist, allowing a visual projection of the baby to flow onto the wall.

"She's going to sleep," Smethwyck said with a relieved air.

Hermione and Lucius were stunned at the image of their daughter's face, her little hand coming up to scratch her nose.

"She's beautiful," Hermione breathed, and Lucius looked at his wife and then back at the projection.

"And she has your nose."

"What about early delivery, sir? I don't think this little one is going to wait much longer," Astrid said, aware that Draco was trying and failing miserably to maintain a professional demeanor in the face of his half-sister's antics as she jostled herself around, her eyes opening and closing several times before they remained closed, apparently asleep.

"Yes, about that…" Smethwyck closed the spell, causing the three Malfoys' attention to snap to him. "It seems that your daughter was mentally affected by the spell, whereas you, Mrs. Malfoy, were targeted specifically in your reproductive functions. Essentially the spell sought to poison your womb, and to poison your child from a surfeit of dark magical influences. This has had the result that your body is eager to end this pregnancy, and furthermore, that your daughter associates magic with pain. Obviously, since she is a magical child, this association needs to be broken. Therefore, the Ubbly's potion will give you a fresh start for introducing magical influences to her, gradually. I believe that we can work out a programme which will allow you, Mr. Malfoy, to gently introduce magic to her while keeping the levels minimal enough to not induce premature labor for you, Mrs. Malfoy. As well, I believe that the sooner we can end this pregnancy, the better for you in terms of future children you may wish to have."

"When will you deliver her, then?" Lucius asked, everything Smethwyck said making sense. "And when we will know about the impact for future pregnancies?"

"Lucius," Hermione said, taking his hand. He knew they had not discussed having other children, but he certainly hoped that she would want more. They exchanged a look that said they would talk about it later, but Lucius felt the warmth of her affection pouring over him.

"I would hope that we could accomplish what is needed within the next week or two. I will defer to my colleague here in terms of what is best by means of delivery, but I do think we should not let this situation continue for longer than absolutely necessary." Smethwyck gestured to Astrid, nodded to Draco. "I imagine he has some idea about the baby, too, given that young Mr. Malfoy has made pediatric healing more of his specialty thus far in his career."

"My concerns are the same as the Muggles—her lungs need to mature. Once we accomplish that, it won't matter when she is born," Draco said, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I know we could use a potion for that, sir, but would it be better to go the Muggle route with steroids?"

Smethwyck sighed. "I'm not sure. I dislike giving potions to unborn children as a general rule, too many squicky complications. I am sure that you could tolerate some Muggle shots, couldn't you Hermione?"

It was the first time that Healer Smethwyck had used her first name, and Hermione realized that the elderly wizard was paying a compliment by doing so.

"Absolutely, yes. I simply want her to be healthy and safe."

"Good woman," Smethwyck said, then turned back to the junior healer who was hovering with the other potion he had asked for.

"Ah yes, potion number 83! Thank you, you may return to Mungo's now," he said, dismissing the young man. Hermione steeled herself to take yet another potion, but Smethwyck merely raised his eyelids in shock.

"Oh no dear, this isn't for you, it's for me!" So saying, the healer downed the potion in one go and tucked the empty vial into his robes. "Wintergreen, quite a nice flavor that. Well, I must go back to Mungo's now, but I'll pop back in tomorrow to check on you when this pair are least expecting it, eh? Have to keep these younger staff on their toes, you know."

Astrid shook her head deprecatingly and Draco exhaled, then ran his fingers through his hair. "Yes, sir."

"Kiss up," Astrid sang, a small smile playing on her lips as she packed up the remaining potions. She had been at Mungo's long enough to no longer be intimidated by Smethwyck.

"Thank you," Lucius said, standing to shake the Healer's hand.

"Not at all, happy to be of assistance," Smethwyck said before he popped out.

"Now, absolutely no disturbances, although I expect you can relax a bit about a few small charms to make yourself more comfortable," Astrid said with a wink at Lucius. Hermione could have predicted his response to a tee, as her husband stiffened beside her in the chair in response to such gross informality from such a hippie-ish witch. "I'll leave it to you Draco to speak to the Muggles about the steroids, and get a few other midwives' opinions about the best methods of induction for labour under the circumstances. See you both tomorrow then!"

Draco nodded to the midwife, and she popped out with the potions, leaving Draco, who came over to the bed and put his hand on Lucius' shoulder. "I'll be off then. Tori and Scorpius will be disappointed you're not coming home, so I'd best go put out those fires right now. I'll pop out and tell the Aurors to keep the Confundus in place—no use having Muggles disturbing you at all hours for no purpose. Instead I'll rig a monitoring charm and Mungo's will keep an eye on you overnight, all right?"

"Please tell me that Lucius will be able to do something about this uncomfortable bed," Hermione interjected, and Draco rolled his eyes.

"I don't want to know, Granger. All I know is that Smethwyck said small charms are fine. Make of it what you will. Good night."

"Good night son," Lucius said, gripping Draco's forearm briefly before letting him go. He walked out and Lucius and Hermione looked at one another.

"Please transfigure the bed," Hermione said, and Lucius withdrew his wand.

"Gladly. And thank Merlin you won't have that damn IV any longer!"

"That's it, Lucius. Let's look on the bright side," Hermione said, caressing her stomach. "Not much longer now, Bump. I suppose we'd better hurry up and decide on your name."


	37. Mum's the Word

**Well here we are, less than a week by a nose! **

**arabellagrace, baby would not be a Malfoy without causing some trouble!**

**Guests, thank you for your reviews! Lucius can be a softie to a select few, it's easy to see why his daughter would be one of those number! Hope the Muggle hospital was explained in the last chapter and again here for one of you, and for the last, obviously Hermione is not going to twiddle her thumbs.**

**Sampdoria, glad you enjoyed it!**

**roon0, Lucius can be very kind, within reason of course. **

**Hope this chapter satisfies all who were waiting so patiently. Please, read and review! Thanks! **

* * *

Hermione woke to the feeling of Lucius spooned around her, his hand caressing her skin and the child beneath it.

"Good morning," he said quietly in her ear, knowing the precise moment his wife had woken.

"Good morning," Hermione replied, stretching slightly. There was a persistent ache in her lower back, and Lucius noticed the grimace.

"Let me," he said, scooting back slightly so he could bring both hands to her lower back and begin rubbing, casting a small warming charm as he did so.

"Oh, that feels heavenly," Hermione said, twisting slightly so he could get the spot that felt tight. "I am tired of being pregnant, I admit. Don't think I will forgive you so easily for inflicting this on me immediately."

"Of course not," Lucius murmured, but he smiled against her hair. "But it does accomplish the result of getting the Ministry completely off our backs. We have met the obligatory requirement of our marriage."

"Won't _that_ be a wonderful thing to explain to our daughter—well, we wouldn't have married at all, darling, but the Ministry insisted, and we had to have you right away." Hermione's tone was wry, but she was still not sure she was ready for parenthood. She had not Lucius' confidence from raising a child already, and her career had been so all-encompassing that even with the warm fuzzies she got from holding Harry and Ginny's babies, she had not felt any pressing need to have her own.

Lucius was offended, and rolled her over to look at her frankly, holding himself over her with one arm planted on either side of her. "Do you honestly think I would not have married you eventually?"

"You were hardly flirting with me…" she trailed off as Lucius' eyebrow shot up. "You _were_ flirting with me."

"Mmmm…and it was deliciously fun," Lucius replied, rubbing her nose with his. "I believe 'delightfully naïve' is the expression I used to describe you."

Hermione was torn between a mix of amusement and annoyance. "You are insufferably arrogant."

Lucius' lips quirked up in a small smile, and he gave a brief kiss before he said against her mouth, "You like my arrogance."

"I believe that I have admitted as much in the past," Hermione said, amusement winning out in her expression. From his smirk she determined that Lucius had won enough battles for the day, and decided to change the subject. "What are you going to do to reintroduce magic to the baby?"

Lucius' expression turned thoughtful and he pulled back, propping himself on his side next to her in the far more comfortable bed, now that he had brought his wand to bear on it and a few other things in the room. "Well, I have a few things that I used to do with Draco, and I would like to try them with this young lady—" his fingers pressed in a gentle tap of reply where she had just kicked her mother, "—and after I speak with Draco and Astrid, that is what I will do. I don't know why I haven't been doing them thus far, probably just too busy and distracted with the more pressing matters we are confronting."

Hermione knew they couldn't ignore the escape of Bedell or the still unknown Ministry mole, but it was pleasant to pretend that the issues with the baby were the only ones requiring their attention. "What is the update on all of that?" she asked quietly, and she could tell that Lucius did not want to talk about it.

"Calvin has kept me updated on the progress with their interrogations of Antonin, which is to say, they have not made much progress at all. Several strategies are being discussed for trapping the Ministry mole, but nothing has been decided as of yet."

"Will you go in to help with the interrogations?" Hermione asked quietly, aware that Yaxley was very desirous of Lucius' assistance.

"I will not be going anywhere until I am leaving with you and our daughter to go home," Lucius said firmly, rubbing her arm in a reassuring gesture.

"But if it would help clean up—"

Lucius stopped her with a finger to her lips. "I have remained here because so long as I am here, no one can follow me to you. It is safer for you and the baby to remain anonymously in the Muggle world, as much as it grates on my nerves to be here all the time."

Hermione had half suspected as much, but hearing him confirm it made her feel even more warmly toward him and his protective instincts.

"What can we expect in terms of timing for our sex life after the baby is born?" Hermione asked huskily, her fingers trailing down Lucius' front in a highly suggestive manner.

Lucius' breath whooshed inward as his naughty wife's hand reached its destination, buttons slipping easily from their moorings. "That all depends on the delivery…it is easier on you than for Muggles, of a certainty. Perhaps two weeks?"

"Lovely," Hermione said, leaning forward to kiss him. "I miss that."

Her hand moved easily and a groan slipped from Lucius' mouth. "You aren't supposed to exert yourself," he said, and Hermione smiled.

"I won't do too much…but I can do enough."

Lucius closed his eyes in a long blink, and thought again that he was so thankful that his wife was so diligent in all areas of study.

* * *

"Lucius, these patterns are not making sense to me," Hermione said, looking up from the papers scattered in the air around her. She had requested that Lucius send for the marriage records which they had acquired from other pureblood families, and was comparing the results from her detailed study of them to the arithmancy work that had been done in the Department of Magical Research.

Lucius looked up from her bare midriff, his hand still moving easily over her belly. Different colored lights were gently transitioning from one to the other, the light strong enough for their daughter to follow it. While a Muggle baby would only see shades of red, this particular spell allowed their baby to see the true colors inside the womb, and it was one of the charms that both the midwife and Draco had agreed was okay to try.

"Make a note of the specific differences, and I will look at them later," Lucius replied, returning his attention to their daughter.

"She seems to like blue and the white best," Hermione commented, completely distracted by the antics of their daughter and the gentle way Lucius had of slowly increasing the intensity of the spells he was using, talking softly to their child the whole while.

"Yes, and she does not like the green," Lucius said, then demonstrated by changing the color to green and watching as Hermione received a sharp jab for his efforts.

"That's enough of that then!" Hermione said, although she really did not mind at all. Their girl had been cooperating for nearly a week, and now that she was due for the second steroid shot they could breathe easier if anything Lucius tried accidentally set off labor.

"I wonder if you would like to try something with me," Lucius said, ending the spell with a soft purple glow.

"What are you thinking of?" Hermione asked. She had not been asked to participate up to now, as the collective "they" that represented her Healers had decided that her magic might make her 'irritable uterus' act up.

"I would like to key the spell to the sound of your voice, and ask you to read to her. It will require you to contribute a bit to the charm," Lucius said, placing both hands on her rounded belly. "Do you feel up to a little joint casting?"

A verbal reply was clearly unnecessary from the excited glint in Hermione's eyes, but she replied anyway. "Yes! Please! Where is my wand?"

"Here you are love," Lucius said, proffering her vine wand. "It took Calvin and Harry some time to find it in that hut, I can tell you."

"Well, that is a good thing, is it not? That means the charm was extremely effective," Hermione replied, enjoying the feel of her magic coursing through the wand.

"Indeed. In fact they would both like to learn that particular charm for Auror work."

"Yes I'm sure they would," Hermione murmured, sitting up. Again her lower back bothered her, and Lucius, ever sharp-eyed, noted it.

"Your lower back is still bothering you?"

"Yes," Hermione said, her mouth making little moue of distaste. "It seems to be coming around more frequently over the past day or so."

Lucius raised his eyebrows at that, but said nothing further about it. "Well, if you are ready, we can begin."

"Which book am I to read?" Hermione asked first.

"Whatever you like, pet. It would probably be best to read a story which requires changes in inflection and such," Lucius said. Hermione thought for a minute and settled for a Muggle book, one by Sandra Boynton. Lucius had never heard of the books before but Hermione was familiar with them and he had found nothing objectionably Muggle about them.

"Right, here we go," Lucius said, and indicated that Hermione should add to the spell he began to cast. Hermione's wand danced elegantly in, and they both felt a pleasant rush of contentment as their magics mixed. He nodded for Hermione to begin reading, then set aside his wand to use his hands only to continue the charm, the lights dancing on both sides of her belly. Within the first two minutes, it was obvious that their little girl liked it very much indeed, as she seemed to be almost dancing in Hermione's womb.

"I think she likes it," Hermione said, meeting Lucius' gaze.

"Indeed," he replied, an unguarded and truly warm look of affection crossing his face. This was the Lucius Malfoy that no one except his family would ever know, and Hermione loved it when she saw him thus.

"It's Pajama Time…it's Pajama Time…" Hermione's voice was getting softer and softer, and Lucius turned the intensity of the lights down in tandem with her voice. Finally he pulled his hands away, leaving a warm, soft glow for a minute or two, which would gradually diffuse away.

"I think we're going to have to use that trick for naptimes," Hermione said. "She's going to sleep."

"She needs her rest," Lucius said, but knew better than to suggest that Hermione also needed rest. Instead, he gently scooted her forward and situated himself behind her back, the Muggle-style hospital gown allowing him easy access to her lower back for more rubbing.

"Oh god, Lucius I love you," Hermione moaned as his hands moved surely and competently, a bit of warmed oil summoned to his palm to ease her back. Lucius was using a tiny bit of pain relief potion in the massage oil, and Hermione was duly appreciative of its effects. When her head lolled to the side in an easy doze, Lucius swept her braided hair to the side and pressed a kiss on her neck.

"Rest well, my love. I think we will be meeting this little one before too much longer, if this keeps up."

Lucius pulled his wife securely back into his arms, allowing himself to fall into an easy doze as well after casting a few 'do not disturb' wards on the door.

* * *

When Hermione woke later that evening, she was a bit disoriented as usual by the oddly lit hospital room. It was as if her subconscious was deeply desirous of home, because whenever she woke needing the loo, her brain always seemed to expect the now familiar surroundings of their suite in the Manor. Trying her best not to disturb Lucius, she padded to the restroom. As she returned, she noticed the twinge in her back had gotten decidedly worse, attempts to stretch merely exacerbating the pain.

"What is it?" Lucius asked from the bed, his pale hair glinting from the subdued sidelight above the bed.

"My back is still bothering me…I think it's worse," Hermione replied distractedly, trying to think if she had been sleeping in an unnatural position, or if she had done anything differently while getting ready for bed.

"I think I should send for Draco," Lucius said, sitting up and flicking on his clothes with a wave of his wand.

"Are you sure?" Hermione said, and immediately changed her mind as her back twinged again in a painful manner.

"I believe you are in labor," Lucius said. "He can assess that, and summon the midwife."

"Will you help me change?" Hermione asked. They had already decided that it would be necessary to keep the Muggles somewhat in the loop, which meant that Hermione would have to at least temporarily give up the extremely comfortable hospital gown she was wearing for the standard issue cotton gown of the hospital. While hers appeared the same, closer inspection revealed much finer cloth, with strategically placed cushioning charms that helped alleviate some pressure on her hips and other sore spots from pregnancy when she was lying down or walking.

"Of course." Lucius was quick to help her, and went ahead and pressed the Muggle call box after he switched the apparition point to the next closest empty room.

"How can I help you?" The Muggle nurse asked, completely ignoring Lucius' presence. At least the notice-me-not charm was effective.

"I think I may be in labor," Hermione replied, grateful that the monitors and folderol would only temporarily return.

"Oh, well, let's see dear!"

It took the nurse a few minutes to hook the monitors back up, and Hermione was amused that the woman thought nothing of how unusual that would be for a pregnant patient with known complications. The woman watched the output of the monitor for a good ten minutes, making encouraging noises as she did so. Finally, she pointed to the gently cresting hill that had appeared on the tape, and said, "Yes, that is the beginnings of labor! Excellent news, Mrs. Malfoy. I will notify your doctors and of course we'll call your husband right away as well."

"Thank you very much," Hermione said, and used up what felt like more than her usual store of patience answering the hovering nurse's questions as to whether she required any ice water, did she need to use the loo, etc. Finally Hermione just said, "I would like to be alone and try to get some more rest, if I could. I just don't know how long I will be in labor…"

The nurse smiled and nodded in an understanding manner. "Of course, Mrs. Malfoy. I imagine the doctor will want to see you on his morning rounds, but you've a ways to go yet. Rest up and let us know if you need anything."

"I will," Hermione promised, and let out a loud exhale when the nurse left the room at last. "When did I become so short-tempered with Muggles?" she wondered aloud, and Lucius bit his tongue on his original response.

"I believe you are simply feeling the effects of labor, love," he replied diplomatically. Hermione frowned at him, but he was saved from explaining further by Draco's entrance through the door.

"What? It IS the middle of the night, you know," Draco said, then shut up when Lucius waved his wand, the scrawling tape of the monitor for the contractions demonstrating clearly why Lucius felt his attendance was warranted.

"Ah," was all Draco said, then he withdrew his wand and cast a few spells quickly to check on the state of the baby and to see if Hermione's uterus was contracting properly. He closed the spells and looked at Hermione and his father.

"Well, that's on then. I'll summon Løngren and notify Smethwyck in case we need him, then I'll pop back home briefly to let Astoria know." Draco paused and looked specifically at Hermione. "Anyone else you want to know, Granger?"

"No," Hermione said irritably. "I think they can wait until the baby is here to be told."

Draco raised his eyebrows but wisely said nothing more than, "As you like it," before he left the room again to deal with the notifications.

"I'd like to walk," Hermione said, and Lucius helped her out of the bed, aware that she was, for now, still tethered to the Muggle monitors.

"You have a somewhat limited radius at the moment, love, but I'm sure we will have that sorted as soon as the rest of the Healers have arrived."

"I don't want any trainees," Hermione said as she began pacing in a tight circle. "I don't think I could bear any more people poking at me than necessary."

"Of course dear," Lucius said soothingly, rubbing in soothing strokes on her back as her magic swelled, rendering the air thick with it. Unless he missed his guess, they were going to be dealing with some quite magnificent magical flares as Hermione went through childbirth.

Within thirty minutes, Astrid had arrived with a kit of necessary items, both potions and magical implements which might be needed. Draco had informed the Aurors, a shift change was underway, and then made alternate arrangements when Lucius quietly told him of Hermione's preferences regarding trainee Healers being in attendance.

"I really don't want to be here," Draco said earnestly. "No offense, Father, but getting an up close and personal view of Granger's bits is not something I've dreamt about for a long, long time."

Lucius snorted at that. He knew Draco had had what he deemed at the time to be an inappropriate crush on the witch in his youth, but this was the first time he had come close to admitting it. Fortunately he had outgrown it, as he had suspected he would—and a good thing it was too, as Lucius was quite attached to his second wife. He could not think of a better partner for himself, and she was certainly living up to his expectations in terms of never being bored!

"I suspect Hermione feels quite the same, I assure you. Just stay nearby and we will call you to check on the baby when she is born," Lucius assured his son, who sighed in relief.

"Thank Salazar," Draco muttered, and Lucius could not resist adding, "But be prepared to deal with the fall-out from her flares."

"Fuck," Draco said, and Lucius smirked.

"Have fun with that," he said as his son left the room swiftly. He knew that Draco would likely have his hands more than full with the unexpected effects on the Muggle surroundings over the next span of hours while Hermione was in labor.

* * *

True to his prediction, Hermione grew increasingly difficult to placate as her labor progressed. She was not permitted to have many of the standard potions that were offered to witches in labor due to the curse, and therefore Hermione had a much more natural childbirth experience than was the case for most witches. Lucius himself was morbidly fascinated by the process, especially when it became apparent that Hermione's magical outbursts increased in frequency and intensity along with her contractions. He was happy to have such well honed reflexes, and the midwife was equally adept. The trainee midwife whom Hermione had grudgingly consented to have present was not as quick on her feet, however. Mirelle, Miranda, whatever her name was—she got hit first by a particularly nasty stinging jinx with an itching component, then a well aimed _Furnunculus_ curse that had the witch muttering under her breath and excusing herself for a good fifteen minutes while she waited for the curing potion to take effect.

"Lucius, you bastard, you did this," Hermione cursed, her walking interrupted as another particularly strong contraction hit her. Despite her anger, she still reached for his hand, and he rubbed her back as well as he could manage while attempting to shield himself from another flare that was building. He had no idea what Draco and the Aurors were coping with outside, as it was requiring all of his focus to deflect anything she was throwing his way.

"I am truly sorry, pet. Hopefully she will be born soon," Lucius replied, aware that her contractions had been steadily growing for the past hour. He caught Astrid's eye and noted her nod. It was close now, Hermione's contractions progressing well for a first time mother.

"Oh, Godric Gryffindor, this hurts!" Hermione groaned, instinctively wanting to buckle her knees and bear down.

"Try this," Astrid suggested, bringing forth a cushioned chair of unusual design. "It will help support you when you push."

"Mmmm…Merlin's beard—" Hermione panted, and Lucius looked again at the midwife, whose face had developed an expression that boded ill.

"I don't believe your daughter is particularly pleased with this process—we need to get her calmed down," Astrid said, paying close attention to the monitoring spells she had cast. "Hermione, I need you to dial down on your aggression. I believe it is feeding through to your baby, and we don't want her to lapse back into negative associations with magic."

Hermione's pained face took on a worried look, and she said, "I'll try."

"Let me see if I can help," Lucius said, then closed his eyes and tried to be as gentle as possible with his wandless magic. It was a mild calming spell, but Hermione needed more help than the limited potions could give her, and the baby was already used to his magic. "Is that better?" he asked after a few moments, feeling the spell sink in, permeate through his wife in the gentle manner he intended.

"Mmm…I think so," Hermione said, her eyes closed as she concentrated on the fresh contraction that was just beginning.

"Good," Lucius said, keeping himself calm so he could keep the charm quietly going as Hermione's body relaxed into her labor.

"That's better," Astrid said, getting down to check on Hermione's progress. "You are very close now, Hermione. This little girl will be born soon."

"I hope so," Hermione said, gritting her teeth as the crest of the contraction rippled through her. She exhaled heavily, the pain clear in her voice as she moaned.

"You're an amazing witch," Lucius said, holding her hand and rubbing her back, where the chief of her pain was localized.

"Oh god, here comes another one," Hermione moaned, and she pushed through it.

"Good. A few more like that and she will be here," Astrid said, looking up briefly at Hermione. "Just push as hard you can, sustained pushes. You are almost done."

Hermione didn't have the ability to restrain the wordless noises of pain that escaped her lips, although she resisted screaming until the baby was crowning. It was a good kind of scream, a primal cry of pain with a reward at the end. Lucius was tight-lipped from anticipation and nervous energy, his control over the calming spell slipping as Hermione experienced the final contraction that would see their daughter born.

"JESUS!" Hermione screamed, a wave of magic flashing out from her that shattered light bulbs and stunned all the Muggles in the immediate vicinity. Lucius felt the blow to his shields, noted that Astrid buffeted it easily and guided the baby's head out, quietly urging Hermione to deliver their daughter's body with the next contraction. The apprentice midwife handled the flare well enough, and was ready with the items necessary to cut the umbilical cord when their little girl made her entrance with a mad, angry cry.

"Oh," Hermione cried, tears falling from her eyes as the messy little girl was placed on her chest, Lucius' hands tenderly cradling his new daughter alongside Hermione's.

"She's so perfect," Lucius said, pressing a kiss on the downy, vernix covered crown of his girl's head. "Thank you, my love, for this beautiful gift."

Hermione didn't mind that his lips were messy when he kissed her too, simply marveled in the amazing knowledge that this perfect little creature had come out of her, had been the little one kicking her, responding to her for so many months. "She's so beautiful," Hermione breathed, her face an expression of perfect love. "Hello, my lovely girl. I'm your mummy."

"Just one more push please Hermione," Astrid said gently, catching the placenta as it was delivered without thought on the part of Hermione.

"Welcome, Athelina," Lucius crooned, stroking the back of her head and meeting Hermione's gaze.

"Athelina Sophia Malfoy," Hermione said, and smiled at her husband. "She has your eyes," she observed, and Lucius replied, "And your hair."

"Poor girl!" Hermione said, but Lucius was having none of it.

"She is perfect," he insisted, warming his hands slightly to keep their daughter warm and snug.

"Would you like to try breastfeeding her, Mrs. Malfoy?" the apprentice midwife asked, and Hermione nodded. The witch helped Hermione position the baby at her breast, her hungry little mouth latching on quickly.

"She is strong!" Hermione commented with a laugh, the sensation of her child at her breast a combination of new pain and contentment.

"Perfect." And for the first time in a long time, Lucius felt perfectly content as he stroked his new daughter's hair, then kissed his wonderful wife on her forehead.

* * *

***A/N: Athelina means "noble" and Sophia means "wisdom".**


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